Shlep D-O Double Gizzle's Web Pizzle

Moving FAQ

This just in!! Your boy got a new job and will officially be a resident of Chicago, Illinois as of June 22. Here are the basic facts:

I'll be living on Lake Shore Drive in Lakeview (sadly, without an actual view of the lake) six blocks from Wrigley Field and very close to Boystown, which should be great for some unintentional comedy. I'll be working at the QTG (Quaker, Tropicana, Gatorade) division of Pepsico, which is located downtown. My wife will be working for Chase bank, which is also downtown.

Now, since I know you're just BRIMMING with more questions, here's an FAQ on our move:

So, why the hell are you leaving San Diego?

When I went to interview, this was actually the first question I was asked. Not, why should we hire you, not, why do you want to work here, but what possessed you to move to Chicago from San Diego? So I laid out the various reasons, 1) I felt a little stuck at work, after three years there wasn’t much on the horizon that I could get excited about. There wasn’t much room to move up, or even move laterally. The job market for accountants/financial analysts in San Diego is still pretty small, and from what I’ve gleaned from other people who have come from other companies, there aren’t many good opportunities outside of healthcare/biotech and the ability to move up would be just as restricted after a couple of years. 2) San Diego is far from most of our family/friends. The expense of flying to New York and Dallas is pretty high, mainly because San Diego still has a small airport and it isn’t really a transit stop for many continuing itineraries, end of line, if you will. Because of the Bangladesh trip earlier this year, it will be about a year before I’m in New York or Dallas again. Chicago to New York is big win, and even though strictly speaking Dallas is about as close to San Diego as it is to Chicago, the frequency of flights between the two big hub airports should be a decent sized win as well.

Allow me to digress a bit, as this brings up a corollary question. Since you live in a place with perfect weather, sunshine, beaches, the zoo, Sea World, etc, why don’t you just get people to visit you more often? Easier said than done. You would’ve thought that during the 100 degree summers in Texas, peeps would come on down for some cool Pacific relief. Or during the snow and ice winters back East, peeps would come on down for some sun. No and no. I can understand that because of the time difference and expense (see above) it requires at least a 4-5 day stay. But in my three-year stay here, my parents visited twice, my in-laws once, my brother once, and my sisters-in-law three times. That’s it. For all the wow, you live in such a pretty place, its so nice, so this and that, we got nothing. My in-laws and my parents both lamented the fact that we would be leaving such a beautiful place, well they almost never came to visit, so what’s the point?! Now we are moving to a place that’s basically ensconced in ice for 4 months a year. So there.

No seriously, why are you leaving?

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t an easy decision. But the wife and I needed a change of scenery. We miss our friends/family, and we’re still young, so why not take a stab at urban life? A lot of people move around to cities, different suburbs, and find themselves by the beach near the end of their journey. We kind of did things backwards, tasting the coastal life and now entering the heart of the city, but hey, how will we ever meaningfully decide what’s right for us without testing it out first?

What are you going to miss most about San Diego?

In no particular order:
The constant sunshine and good weather, obviously, but let me be more specific—driving in the late afternoon on Torrey Pines towards Carmel Valley, as you come over the hill and the ocean is shimmering like a second sun and whole world is suddenly awash in a pink-gold glow.

Driving in the late afternoon on Del Mar Heights towards highway 1 and the ocean is shimmering like a second sun and whole world is suddenly awash in a pink-gold glow.

Driving in the late afternoon on the Coronado Bay Bridge towards Coronado, and the ocean…well you get the idea.

Sunset cliffs – An all-time classic spot

Clothes – Being able to wear shorts in January is nice, no way around that

Food – Being born and raised on Tex-mex, I was a bit skeptical about the Baja flavors that prevail in SD, but I must admit I’ve been won over. I will definitely miss the fish tacos and the carne asada with guacamole.

Sign wavers – Businesses all over San Diego, from condo developments, to furniture stores, to collision centers, hire a diverse group of people to stand out on the sidewalk and wave signs imploring passers by to come in. From young skater kids to retirees these people are all over the place. The interesting thing is, there seems to be some sort of code among them, that it’s not enough to just hold the sign up, but you must toss, twist and twirl and perform all sorts of circus tricks with the sign in order to get people’s attention. The best was Hip-hop girl, who had her head phones on and would make eye contact with every car that was stopped at the intersection, wave, then proceed to spontaneously break into a dance number that basically involved humping the sign. I’m gonna miss her.

Cousins – My Mou Apu and Babla Bhai I’ve written about , so let’s just add that there’s NO (zero, zilch, nada) way we would’ve lasted three years here without their hospitality and their company. It was a constant source of comfort. I will sorely miss them. (Tui's cousins Touhid Bhai and Tumpa Bhabi also, they've made everything easier for us out here.)

TV/Sports timing – West coast sports timing is the greatest. 1) We get to roll out of bed and start watching football from 10am all the way to 4pm, and still have time to do other stuff. 2) East Coast and Central night events start at 4 or 5pm and while that means we might miss the start of something because of work, it also gives us a great excuse to cut out early if necessary. On top of that, most regularly scheduled TV shows are shown on delay at their listed East Coast times, so we don’t have to decide between the game and our favorite show.

Nature – Trees, mountains, cool ocean breezes, flowers, all that good stuff will be much fewer and further between in Chi-town.

Driving – Cruising the highways here is pretty sweet, as the ChiPs don’t really pull you over unless you're going nuts or going above 90, regardless of the stated speed limit. Definitely gonna miss that. Of course, I really won’t be driving at all in Chicago since we’ll be busing and training to work every day, which I’m kind of looking forward to.

(Segue to…)

What are you most excited about living in Chicago?

Not driving every day! Even though this involves being outdoors in minus 29 degree weather, for some reason, I love the fact that I don’t have to drive every day, unnecessarily burn gas and accelerate the depreciation of my car. Additionally, I’m looking forward to walking to my favorite restaurant/bar and chilling out, without having to worry about parking and driving back.

Food – Three words: Deep, Dish, Pizza (hmm, Food is something I’m going to miss most, and it’s something I’m excited about, perhaps it’s time to get that cholesterol checked, our new building does have a gym so I can't use the weather as an excuse for not working out)

Sports/Concerts – I no longer have to drive two hours to LA for the best sports and concert events. Case in point, September 23rd, Cowboys at Bears, Grossman! Romo! It’s the NFL on NBC!

In general, Chicago is much younger and more diverse culturally than San Diego, whose population is, to put it bluntly, older and whiter. There should also be more things to do besides just going to the beach. I’ll keep telling myself this in February when my nose hairs freeze just by breathing and my jeans are white at the bottom from walking through salted ice.

My job – I’m not too career oriented a person, but I am excited about 1)Changing industries 2) Working for a company people have actually heard of and 3) Possibly getting free Gatorade. So do your part and go buy some Life cereal, some Sierra Mist soda and some baked Lays.

Ok, now for the most important issue, what about your Rage/Wu-tang tickets?

Let me tell you something…the prospect of missing the Rock the Bells show (from here on out to be known as the GLE, or Greatest Lineup Ever) was the single biggest factor keeping me in Cali. A reunited Rage and Wu-tang plus Mos Def and Talib Kweli and the Roots and Cypress Hill and Nas and Public Enemy and and and!!! Yeah well, I was mentally preparing myself for the agony of giving up these tickets when my cousin-in-law, the famous Bushra, informed me of rumors that Rage was adding a non-Rock the Bells show just for the Midwest. I did some digging and sure enough the website www.ratm82407.com featured two countdown clocks, one to August 24th and one to June 11, when the official announcement was made: Rage was going to play a show with Queens of the Stone Age in East Troy, Wisconsin, tickets go on sale Saturday June 16th! I must’ve built up some good karma in a past life, because the SAME DAY, Rock the Bells unveiled their full tour, including a stop in Chicago on August 28th. I copped the new Rage tickets bright and early Saturday morning and the Chicago Rock the Bells tickets go on sale June 30th . So, while I won’t be seeing them on the same bill, it looks like I’ll be getting my taste of the GLE. Hallelujah Holla back.

So that’s the story, the next adventure for your boy will be taming the urban jungle and braving the frozen tundra. Wish me luck…

****

“They ask me where hip-hop is goin, it’s Chicagoan.”
--Common

Wedding Part Deux

Three years ago , I said that though my brother's wedding was fun, it was so draining I had no desire to do anything like it ever again. Of course, I didn't really think I would ever have the chance, since I only have one brother, nevertheless I guess it's true when they say that you don't really miss something until it's gone.

*****

In a crazy coincidence, I was in the middle of reading Malcolm Gladwell's The Tipping Point right before my week-long trip to New York for my wife's cousin's wedding. (By the way, if you have even a passing interest in pop culture, social science and/or business, which should cover pretty much everybody, you must read this book). I say it was a coincidence not only because Gladwell devotes an entire chapter to the New York Subway system (as an application of the Broken Windows theory ), but also because of the section on channel capacity.

Channel capacity is a concept regarding the limits our brains have for certain kinds of information. The average human can only remember certain things, like numbers, up to a limit (the book cites studies that claim the number limit is around 7, hence the reason for seven-digit phone numbers, I would argue that it's higher given the prevalence of cell phones and the need to remember ten digits, as well as the nine digit social security numbers most people have memorized) and after that we begin to overload. Gladwell goes on to talk about evolutionary biologists who have extended this concept to a social channel capacity, meaning there is a limit to how many people we can relate to and care about before we feel overwhelmed (for an excerpt click here .)

This is a long-winded way of saying that reading about a scientific study on social limits on my way to spend a week with my wife's extended family was highly ironic. Marriage instantaneously tests your social channel capacity. You sign the papers and put on the ring, and all of a sudden you've got twice as many (or more) people to keep up with and spend time and energy on. This is especially challenging for someone like me who is already a little antisocial and painfully shy around new people. It doesn't help that we live allllll the way over on the other coast, and that this was the first opportunity I had to spend quality time with my wife's family since my wedding a year and a half ago. I figured I was in for quite the learning experience.

*****

I was starting almost from scratch. When a very overwhelmed Damon asked me how I managed to remember everyone's name and relationship, I confessed that before I arrived for the week, I didn't. Whenever my wife would talk about them, I would just smile and nod. Sure, I knew most of the adult aunts and uncles (because I'm a suck-up like that), but for the kids, I had only a vague idea of who they were.

(This also made looking at my own wedding pictures an adventure as all the previously unfamiliar faces now have much more meaning. For example, there's a picture of Nausheen bringing the rusmat tray to the stage at our wedding, and not only do I not recall this event at all, two weeks ago I wouldn't have been able to tell you who she was. Sounds mean, I know, but that's the way it goes when you fall in love , get married and jet off to Cali all within a couple of months. Hopefully I made up for it by being so damn charming. Seriously, if anything, I'm now all the more appreciative of the opportunity I had to get to know everyone.)

Although there were a few awkward moments, it was nothing a few hours of dance practice (that's right, your boy got busy with the dandias, see below, and for the record, I still can't get any of those songs out of my head) and a couple of trips to Home Depot couldn't fix. I tried to make the most of my week, and hopefully next time there will be less running around more kickin it. And I'll make damn sure my wife and I don't wear matching clothes.

*****

There are few family bonding experiences as intense as weddings. On the one hand, it's a stressful, crazy-making, sleep-deprived powder keg. The smallest of slights can set people off, while everyone else is just trying to keep their heads above water. It's seemingly not the best situation to step in as the New Guy. On the other hand, you're doing essentially fun things, (dancing, decorating, dressing up, etc.) with the people you love the most, so there's plenty of laughs and good times to be had. By the time it's over the highs and lows serve only to bring people closer together. Weddings almost always end on a high note, everyone is there, after all, to celebrate the love and committment of two people, and there's a unique joy and satisfaction to seeing it all come together. For me, it was a whirlwind of Lal Dupattas, gold spray paint, eight-counts and Winshield Wipers, and I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

And since you've now plowed through my incoherent ramblings, I'll stop there and show you a few pictures.

*****

The Happy Couple, Mow apu and Brian

Some of the aforementioned kids

As promised, the dance practice picture, I may look confused, but trust me, I got it by showtime.

Bush and that printer got reaaal close.

She tricked me into wearing that shirt, I swear.

Me, my brother and Auni

Me and Tunki all dolled up and ready to go.

By popular demand, here is a picture of my wife and her little sister Tumpa, AKA "Wheels".

7 weeks to graduation

Last night I was happily playing X-Men Legends on PS2 when the phone rang around 11pm. The caller ID told me it was my mom. Bad news, I thought, it's 1 am over there. Without saying hello, I ask her why she's still up, she tells me Raheed was in a car accident and is gone, she's on her way to his uncle's house. Speechless, I hung up, I cried quietly then went to the computer to look at pictures from my brother's reception. I prayed and went to bed, but couldn't sleep so I watched Fresh Prince re-runs on Nick at Nite until I finally felt tired. The only thought in my mind the entire night was that Raheed Salam was 17.

****

This morning I called the family but of course they were in no condition to talk, I called my brother and let him know, then I saw that it was front page news . I've known Raheed since he was about six. Within the tight, convoluted family/friend groups that form so wonderfully by immigrant communities, Raheed's family was one of the closest. His father, Salam uncle was literally one of the first Bangladeshi's in the Dallas area. Salam uncle's younger brother went to school with my uncle in Dhaka, and I afforded them the same love and respect. I grew up with Raheed's cousin Fareen (who is getting married in June, at what will now probably be the saddest wedding ever), coloring together in Houston when we were 2. And even though he's six years my junior I consider her younger brother Ziyad to be one of my closest friends. To Ziyad, I've been a "boy", hanging out, smoking, bull-shitting, and I've been an older brother, guiding and protecting him. And I hate, hate, hate the fact that I couldn't protect him from this. Of all the life experiences I've passed on to him, from girls to college to jail, this is the one I had hoped I would never have to share. After all, in so many ways, I'm still not really over Keyur, so what can I offer?

Right now, I'm not sure, from this distance all I can do is pray and grieve and hope that Raheed's in a better place.

Did you know...?

...that Mark Cuban owns Landmark theatres ? That's right, the local theater chain that shows all the latest and greatest in independent cinema (including Dobie for all you Horns out there) is owned by none other than everyone's favorite loopy Internet-billionaire turned Dallas Mavericks team owner. I found this out one day while surfing the Net at work and wondering if Cuban had gotten into any new beefs lately. So I went over to his blog and saw that yes! he did have a mini-tiff with the NY Times. The actual situation wasn't as interesting as discovering that through 2929 Entertainment Mark Cuban, with partner Todd Wagner, runs both HDNet , HDFilms , as well as the Landmark Theatre chain.

Even though I admit he can be annoying at times, I've always been a big fan of Mark Cuban. He's the perfect example of a super-fan who all of a sudden gets to own his favorite team. But beyond that, he's a really smart super-fan. He's come up with innovative ideas about the way a pro-sports team can be operated and marketed, and that's affected franchises across the nation. He's made supporting the Mavericks (something which was not easy at all in Cowboy-crazy Dallas) cool and fun. The thing I really like is that he's never afraid to try anything new, and even when he's wrong, he's sincere and genuine about everything. I love that he's bringing that same energy and attitude to the film industry. 2929 helped produce Good Night, and Good Luck and recently signed a six-picture deal with none other than Steven Soderbergh. You can read more about Cuban's ideas about digital film and digital projection in the "mini-tiff" link above, but another idea he brought up in the blog that I really like is the "Collapsing Window". Basically, it does away with the idea that a movie premiers in the theaters, then after a few months goes to DVD, then after a few more goes to TV (unless it's a crappy movie and it goes "straight-to-video"). The past few years, theater box offices have slumped badly while DVD sales have gone through the roof. But what if a movie came out on DVD and on the big screen at the same time? People who relish the theater experience can still go, while people who would rather stay at home don't have to wait the few months anymore (Soderbergh's Bubble is the first to be simulataneously released). I think there are plenty of cross-promotions and incentives available to make it work financially and I'm really excited to see how Cuban runs with it.

*****

...that Korn has a new album out? That's right, the standard bearers of the very late 90's rap-rock movement (movement? not really, more like a blip) have released a new album. Not that I particularly care I was never a huge fan, but their video for the first single Twisted Transistor is HIE-LARIOUS. Rappers Lil' Jon, Snoop Dogg, David Banner and Xzibit play the four band members (the fifth member, Head, left to pursue Christianity) as they go through the motions of making a video and promoting a record. Not only is it interesting and a little surreal to watch these rappers, whose hip-hop images are pretty cemented, run around with instruments, it's ridiculously funny to watch as they go through Almost Famous-ish rock band adventures. The band gets jealous as David Banner's modeling career takes off, and Snoop gets overly artistic and refuses to be shoot a video because it will compromise the song. The best moment is when the "band" meets with the label execs (played the real band) and they ask what the song is about, to which Snoop, totally in brooding-guitarist character says, "Naw man, it's about....transistors, yah feel me?" High comedy.

****

In last week's edition of Sports Illustrated there was a feature on Alonzo Mourning entitled PlayStrong about how he aspires to have a Lance Armstrong-like affect on transplant survivors. Brilliant!

Lastly...Kobe sucks. That's all.

A midnight summer's dream II

So I could've done this a couple of ways. I could've been really robotic and matter of fact about it. Announce the who, what, when, where and how of it all. (Shahmeen Khan and Sheelpi Kalam, March 19, Long Island, NY). I could've gone all emo on your ass, and poured out my maudlin heart until the words gushed with mid-teen sentimentality.

So why did I go with the silly Syracuse story? I wanted to remember for myself how it all started really. It's been such a whirlwind seven months, maybe I wanted to remind myself how I got here and why it's all so important to me. Maybe I wanted to see how I remembered things now, through a prism of love, hope and happiness. It wasn't actually as rosy as I like to remember, as soon as I got back to Houston there were doubts and fears and the this-is-it feeling became a is-this-it? There were weeks when the I-know feeling became a maybe-I-don't know feeling which became I-think-I-know-but-do-I-trust-myself? There were whispers of what-ifs and even who-ifs. Revelations and ties re-tied and then re-severed. But the essence of that first meeting in Syracuse never left me, it was once-in-a-lifetime, it was completion and happiness and it was real to both of us, and that's the way I'm going to remember it, and I'm not going to let anything that came before or after color it differently.

****

So get to the point. The point is this, the actualization of what I knew the second that pink blur hit me seven months ago is taking place this March 19 in Long Island, New York. What has been real to both of Tui and I for awhile will soon become a social reality. Her parents are holding an engagement ceremony to be coupled with a legal marriage so that no matter how hard we try we won't be able to live in sin in San Diego. The big, fat Bangladeshi wedding will come later, but in the eyes of God and Nassau county your boy will be legally wed to one Shahmeen Khan. For seven months I have felt that our connection, our instant bond makes it seem like I've been living in a dream world. That its too surreal, I can't believe something this wonderful is happening and happening so quickly. Well all those excuses will soon be thrown out the window. Because it's about to be real, so real, it'll be official. Stamped and signed. And I figured my happiness can no longer be contained, nor should it, I'm letting the pizzle's world in on my not so little secret. Wish me luck denizens, for this is an adventure the likes of which the shlep dogg has never imagined. Exploring NYC's Chinatown alone? peanuts. Hiking in the in Malaysian jungle? paltry compared to this. But I know I'm up for it, bring it on as the kids say, bring it on....

A midnight summer's dream

The six month rotation in Houston was almost up. I loved the people I worked with. I liked Houston, it was far enough from Austin and Dallas to be able to be on my own, close enough to visit whenever I liked. I even enjoyed the me time post-Memorial Day, when I made up my mind to stop thinking about the nature of my relationships with other people, about my emotional dependency on those people, and to start consciously, with pure focus, thinking about me. But then, there was this girl....

But there was no staying with Cardinal, and for that matter Houston, after six months. I'd have to leave. Before that occurred, I was to go on an assessment with one of the consultants. Wes had thus been designated. I kept putting it off, finally I let him know, hey can I come with you sometime. Sure, I'm going to Jackson Memorial in Miami and Watertown NY. I don't think we're taking you to Miami though ha ha. very funny. But....

There was this girl. For a while, Russ was my girlfriend. I'm not gonna lie, nothing brings two guys closer than simultaneous break-ups and girl drama. One day, he says, hey fuck it, here's her screen name, talk to her. talk to who? Tui. who? Bush's cousin. okay. I didn't think about it, I was in that place, no thinking about others, just me. so I said hello. crazy, I'm staring at my monitor, fingers typing, she's doing the same, but....it felt right. It's so hard to define the nature of Instant messaging, but somewhere along the way, and maybe I'm weird and it's just me, but, you can tell. Conversations have their flow and their moments, it takes a different form, but you can tell, when someone is being dismissive. You can tell when something becomes awkward, and you can tell when you feel comfortable talking to someone. I can't explain, and I fear if I try too hard I'll be branded some sort of anti-social cyber nerd relying on online conversations to fulfill him. But it is what it is. Though we had never met, never talked on the phone, I felt a connection, and I knew she felt it too. Thanks Russ.

So Watertown? hmm, maybe's its somewhere near Syracuse. She had been there for awhile on training, I knew, its why she hadn't really been online that much lately, because you know, in my non-chalant way, I had noticed, but I hadn't missed. Which is good, I think that would've proved my dependency all over again, if I had missed talking online after only a couple of weeks. It was still me-time, and to think of it, I was doing well. Hooking up with old friends, Getting closer with the fam, etc, etc. I was in a good place, not lonely but getting ready to show the next one who I really am, and not make the same mistakes I'd made before, I was getting to know me, and now whoever came next would have a much easier time with me. I was in a good place, not desperate, but confident. Was it good enough to ask for her number and call? Like Russ-Cyrano had suggested? Not yet.

So I asked Cyrano, where's Watertown? BFE dude. Is it near Syracuse? I think so. I think Tui's supposed to be there. you guys should meet up. I think so too. So I asked her (she's back online, earlier I tried to explain and defend online messaging as a genuine form of interaction, but I will admit this, it's much easier to build up the nerve to take that all-important 'next step' while typing than it is in person). Yeah, Watertown's like 10 minutes from Syracuse(it's really more like an hour, good one Tui). I'm going there. Hey, we should meet up. Yeah, whats' your number...

cue "Solsbury Hill" by Peter Gabriel

Was I nervous? Hell yeah. Russ on the phone: So you guys are digging each other huh? yeah, its weird. She wants to meet you. I know, I do too. In my head: But where could this go really. I'm moving to San Diego ( this had happened while talking to her, in fact she was one of the first people I told, strange, I was excited to move for the first time without leaving someone behind, but it was as if I was looking for that someone still, ) She's all the way in Albany, NY. Stop looking ahead and just meet her jackass. Okay, so I called my brother, dude, I'm a little nervous, don't be, she'll make you feel comfortable right away. Okay. Trust me, it'll be fine.

Syracuse seemed like an okay place. Like if it wasn't summer time, it would be a cool college town to hang in. It was a pretty summer day though, rollin' around in my rented Alero. The Marx hotel was pretty easy to find, the only completely circular high-rise downtown. Before I left I joked to myself, "hey time to go meet my future wife" ha ha, good one shlep, take it slow this time (I tried, honest, I did, but I had no idea....)

Of course trying to occupy myself in downtown Syracuse on a summer Sunday afternoon while waiting for what seemed like forever for her to arrive didnt exactly lend itself to "take it slowly and see how it goes," I had waaaaay too much time to think. I tried walking. walked like, 5-6 blocks in each direction from the hotel. I tried reading, except I had just spent 4 hours reading on the plane. I tried waiting in the hotel lobby, but the eastern european looking guy behind the counter was giving me the creeps. Damn. Talk about icing the kicker. By the time she called, I was wound tighter than a cheetah waiting to pounce. Hey I'm parked out by the fountain. Fountain? Yeah the fountain. umm okay. Hey, where are you? I'm in the lobby, okay, I'm by the fountain. Fountain? okay I'm coming to the lobby. okay.

cue "Wild Honey" by U2

I'm walking across the street, more quickly than I realize, in my light blue t-shirt, the one with the felt afro figures, in my brown sandals, which I had bought for my brother's wedding, I remember glancing at my reflection in the window, straighten your back dude, what is that glint in my eye? apprehension? confidence? an I-know-something-you-dont-know-glint? wait, what?...I'm approaching the door, but it opens first. There's a blur of pink. An embrace. Oh, you're so tall...

****

Drink up, baby, stay up all night
the things you could do,
you won't but you might
the potential you'll be
that you'll never see
the promises you'll only make
drink up with me now and forget all about
the pressure of days
do what i say
and i'll make you okay and drive them away
the images stuck in your head

people you've been before that you don't want around anymore
that push and shove and won't bend to your will
i'll keep them still

drink up, baby, look at the stars,
i'll kiss you again
between the bars
where i'm seeing you
there with your hands in the air
waiting to finally be caught

drink up one more time and i'll make you mine
keep you apart deep in my heart separate from the rest
where i like you the best
and keep the things you forgot

the people you've been before that you don't want around anymore
that push and shove and won't bend to your will
i'll keep them still

--"Between the Bars" by Elliott Smith

I'm not afraid of Al-Qaeda, I'm afraid of Al-Cracka

Commenting on the last entry, Andrew says..."The only way your entry could have been better would have been to include a picture capturing the greatness of her chest."

The Pizzle aims to please....

****

The latest Chris Rock HBO stand-up special is out on DVD, if you haven't seen it, you are hereby STRONGLY ENCOURAGED to do so. He's at his best. "Only white people are allowed to profit from pain. White people make all the guns, thousands of guns a day made by white people, no one gives a fuck. A nigga SAYS gun?.....Congressional hearing."

*****

"My mental stability reaches its bitter end,
And all my senses are coming unlgued
Is there any cure for this disease someone called Love
Not as long as there are girls like you...
Everything she does questions my mental health
It makes me lose control, I just can't trust myself
If anyone can hear me, slap some sense in me."
---Billie Joe of Green Day

America's Finest City

As promised, the pizzle is writing for first time from his living room in sunny San Diego (it's pretty funny, even people from here always preface the name of the city with "sunny" or "beautiful", that's a good thing, it means no matter how long you live here, you still appreciate how amazing it is). Anyway, work has prevented me from exploring all that much, but I have a year (at least) so no rush. The long hours in the cube are taking some getting used to, but then things like this happen:

and it still hasnt sunk in that I LIVE here. Brilliant.

Lastly, I want to thank my roommates Steve and Alex, and Karen and Amy (and Tui of course) for making my birthday weekend and our first weekend in SD wicked awesome. Pictures will be forthcoming.

And some banana cognac... biaatch

The time is now pizzle denizens, for the third time in a year, I'm preparing to disconnent my PC and pile my little life into a bunch of boxes (that's always a bit sobering, fitting one's entire life into a few pieces of cardboard).

In a couple of days I will leave the friendly confines of the great state of Texas for who knows what in San Diego. Of course I've left "home" before (I pretty much do that constantly), but this time it feels different. I'll be gone for a longer period of time than before, and for the first time, I feel like I'm not really leaving anything behind. Not in the sense that I won't miss my friends and family, but there's a sense of newness and possibility to this move that I've never felt before. It's exciting, no more pining for home, no more worrying about unfinished business ("I settled all family business today"). A whole new chapter in the Life of Shlep. I'm a blank slate, just like when I first went to Singapore, expecting everything and nothing at the same time. New job, new roommates, sunny skies, and the next time you hear from the pizzle, it will be from my new digs in La Jolla. Until then, be safe, love one another, and remember, no matter what the stripper says, there's no sex in the champagne room, oh there's champagne in the champagne room, but there's no sex.

**Note to all my homeboys and girls (especially those that live close by, Akash I'm looking in your direction)--Come to Cali Labor Day weekend, we are going to deflower San Diego for my birthday.

*****

Loyaltly Oaths? I ask you, how far away are we really from Facism?

****

"Baby this town rips the bones from your back
It's a death trap, it's a suicide rap
We gotta get out while we're young
`Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run....

The highway's jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive
Everybody's out on the run tonight
but there's no place left to hide
Together Wendy we'll live with the sadness
I'll love you with all the madness in my soul
Someday girl I don't know when
we're gonna get to that place
Where we really want to go
and we'll walk in the sun
But till then tramps like us
baby we were born to run"
----Bruce Springsteen from "Born to Run"

I Just Can't Get Over These Women

I don't remember exactly when it was that I started to think about the "These Women" episode of The West Wing in relation to the women I work with but once I started, I couldn't stop. It was perfect. For about 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, I'm surrounded by five women, who while they couldn't be more different from each other, somehow band together day after day to make mine and everyone else's life better with that indefinable mix of empathy and nurture that males can't begin to fathom.

So, even though I hestiate to do it, just because it's like an amateur boxer beginning his training by fighting Ali in his prime, I'm using Aaron Sorkin's writing as a starting point. Here's my tribute to the women on the Finance team at Cardinal Health's Consulting and Services.

Helen - "like a 50's movie star, so capable, loving and energetic." Helen is the glue of our group. With a soft, polite yet firm voice she serves as the only buffer between the rest of us and utter chaos. Sometimes it's not more than once a day, but her "Are you doin' ok?" goes a long, long way. It makes everyone feel better and keeps us all going.

Samantha and Jo - "going to toe-to-toe with men in a world that tells women to sit down and shut up." These two couldn't be more different, the small town white girl and the single black mother from the city, but trust me, you do not want to go up against either of them. Their resilience and ability to stand their ground is, at the risk of hyperbole, inspiring. They not only take it to the men they have to deal with professionally, but they do it while overcoming the hurt that men have caused them personally, Jo continuing to singlehandedly create the best possible life for little Jania even after Jania's father left, and Samantha putting up with a negligent boyfriend because she wants so much to start a family of her own. For the record, you deserve much, much better Sam.

Judy - The transplanted New Yourican. The salt of the earth. Day after day, she comes early and stays late and grinds out another honest day's work. She keeps things together and moving and while on paper she may seem to be the least educated, she's a testament to the fact that if you show up, work hard and "always do the right thing" (Helen's mantra), that's a reward in and of itself. I especially love the fact that no matter what, even if they just hung up and are calling back to mention something they forgot to say two seconds ago, she ends every single call with her son or her husband with "Love You".

Cheryl - If my mother were white, with blond hair and blue eyes and born and raised in Texas, she would be Cheryl. It never ceases to amaze how two people with such disparate backgrounds can find themselves to be the exact same person, at least to me.

"Sheelpi, you shouldn't be drivin' at night" (night, of course coming out more like naat , in her Texas accent); echoes into
"Sheelpi, rathre gari chalaish na"

It's like I enter some bizarro world every day when I walk into work, a world where my mother is now a white lady working at the desk next to me, still hounding me and giving me unsolicited advice, but ultimately, caring for me and making sure I'm happy and well and safe. Cheryl met and married the only man she ever loved at age 20 and never looked back. She raised two kids and now, for six months at least, she made the life of this world-weary 23-year-old ungrateful and jaded Bangladeshi-American a million times better. If it wasn't for her, my move to Houston amidst all the hurt and chaos in my personal life would've left me broken I'm sure, and, just by being there day after day with her smile and innocent, childlike questions about today's pop culture, she kept me sane and quieted the turmoil in my head even when I had to return to Austin to confront once again the greatest loss I've ever experienced. I don't really know what else to say except Thanks Cheryl.

"Everything will be okay Sheelpi, I promise"

*****

Some linkseses:

Move over Chappelle

More reasons why Republicans suck
"On July 4th of this year, police say, the Secret Service directed them to arrest a couple for wearing anti-Bush T-shirts at a presidential speech in West Virginia -- despite the fact that the speech was open to the public."
Arrested for wearing a shirt? Are we still in America?

Finally, believe it or not, some positive stories from the Olympics.

The World's Fastest Man is American and NOT on drugs

They survived being tortured by Uday Hussein, and now they're kicking everyone's ass in soccer, I Love It (also another reason why Republicans suck, who does Bush think he is taking credit for this?)

*****

after Josh's therapy session with Stanley Keworth, Josh inquires why Leo is trying to help him
' This guy's walking down the street when he falls in a hole. The walls are so steep he can't get out. A doctor passes by, and the guy shouts up, "Hey, you, can you help me out?" The doctor writes a prescription, throws it down in the hole and moves on. Then a priest comes along, and the guy shouts up, "Father, I'm down in this hole. Can you help me out?" The priest writes a prayer, throws it down in the hole and moves on. Then a friend walks by. "Hey, Joe, it's me. Can you help me Out" And the friend jumps in the hole. Our guy says, "Are you nuts? Now we're both down here." The friend says, "Yeah, but I've been down here before - and I know the way out." '

I'm going going back back to Cali Cali

Moving sucks even though I'm pretty damn used to it. New places suck in that you have to readjust to new surroundings, new people, new everything. But its also really really exciting. There's a special pleasure in knowing that each day you wake up, something is going to happen to you that's never happened before. Also, I'm going to a place where I get to look at this....

every day for the next year. Come to think of it....moving rules.

In my weaker moments I may say that rootlessness is a quite the burden. It hurts to miss people, and it's scary to adjust to new places. But for better or for worse, this is the hand I've been dealt and I'm going to make the best of it. Sunny skies, perfect weather, and hot chicks will no doubt make this task alot easier. WESTSIIIIIDE!

"This is the life I chose or rather the life that chose me,
If you can't respect that, your whole perspective is wack
I bet they love me when I fade to black..."
----Jay-Z

RIP Dub

The news came as an utter shock to me today. Ralph Wiley, columnist, author, sports analyst, passed away this morning. I didn't know him, and he had no idea that I existed, but I felt this one. I was shocked and sad, for me, for sports fans, for the world. I was so affected that it surprised me all over again. But it's true, I feel a real and tangible loss.

I've raved often about Page 2 and it's singular focus on extending sports reporting and sports commentary to all things social, political, artisitic and even spiritual. Ralph Wiley was, for me at least, the vanguard of this movement. He was the Yoda of the Jedi writers who seamlessly melded athletics with poetry, music, film, society and culture. I religiously read his columns for more than two years, because something in him spoke to me. His writing had an undeniable rhythm and style, just like the jazz musicians he was always so eloquently comparing athletes to. I have feebly attempted to copy that use of cadence, that ability to tie a piece together with such lyrical ease, and I straight jacked his use of those asteriks to separate different passages of thought and especially his use of a ghetto alter ego to have imaginary conversations with.

I felt close to him because he always spoke for and to those whose perspectives were either misrepresented or disregarded by the mainstream. Even when I disagreed, his thought process matched mine. Most importantly, he opened my eyes to what sports and the world could be like if you had the courage to look at it from a different perspective. Sports and music, sports and film, sports and race, even sports and religion, nothing was beyond Wiley's scope. He brought out the humanity in the games we love, showed how sports can be personal extensions of our thoughts and desires, and collective expressions of our hopes and fears.

He was everything everyone said he was, but more than that his work showed me that a writer, any artist really, must take his work seriously. Your work can and will have an impact and that is a responsibility not to be taken lightly. I liked that he was so self-reflective at times. He knew the power of the pen, and he was confident in his ability to wield it. At the same time, he was unafraid to reveal himself and let the reader in on the possibilities and the limits of his words. Ray Ratto hit it on the nose when he said that Wiley, "didn't write or speak from his gut as much as he wrote and spoke for yours". Wiley was never afraid to speak up, his credo for the columnist was to put your opinion up front, don't leave the reader guessing. He was also never one to dumb anything down. He respected the intelligence of his readers and he challenged them with his thoughts.

I admired and respected his career. He wrote two books with Spike Lee (SPIKE LEE!!) one about basketball and the Knicks and the other about the making of Malcolm X. At the time of his death he was working with Lee on a follow-up to the basketball movie He Got Game. I had a hard time finding his books in regular bookstores ( I once saw a lone copy of Why Black People Tend to Shout at Barnes and Noble), but my first task now will be to go out and get my hands on as many as possible. I had barely scratched the surface of what Wiley had to offer, but just from his Page 2 work, I know I am lucky to have had the opportunity.

I would like to go through his archives and pay better tribute to him by sharing some of his best passages, but that will take more time than my heavy eyelids will allow right now. Upon first seeing the news report a couple of things sprang immediately to mind though. The first was just a parenthetical phrase he used in a column about the shooting death of a Baylor basketball player. In describing the victim's girlfriend he called her beautiful "(because being smart always makes the pretty ones beautiful)". The second was a column he wrote on Toni Smith , the Division II women's basketball player who in a quiet form of protest against the then impending war in Iraq, turned her back to the flag during the national anthem. And lastly, especially since re-reading it in writing the Iverson piece, the Urban Legend column linked to in the last entry. It contains some vintage Wiley:

"A barely six-foot guy? Becoming Herculean in the NBA? Is that possible?

It isn't. It's impossible. It's legend. Urban legend. The Kid came from nothing, with nothing. His mama Ann begged John Thompson: "Please. Save him. Save my son's life...

Can't tell you how many players with ability don't make much of anything out of themselves, who come from out of tough or harsh circumstances, places where life is cheap, staging areas of Hell, barrels of human crabs pulling you down while saying, "Me! Me! No Me!" Allen Iverson's will alone is very heroic. You can say it isn't, that he isn't anything but trouble, you can O'Reilly him, shout him down, try to kill him off by saying, in a fair and balanced way, that he is undeserving, and not the Answer, but the troubadours, barbers, kids and I will laugh at you if you do....

Please. Allen is "Rocky" for the people "Rocky" forgot.

For those in Philly, beyond Philly, stuck in staging areas of Hell, stunted by Section 8 housing, with time as their only luxury, time and imagination and endless blacktop ... even from so much nothing like this, something wonderful was made. The troubadours, barbers, poets, artists and children, they know. Ask your kid. Ask Bruce Hornsby. Ask Woody Allen. They know this genius when they feel it and sense it."

It's Time

It's time to pull my head out my ass, and focus on my life again. It's time to extract myself, no matter how painful, from the bad episode of Friends that I let my life become over the past month. It's time to look ahead and stop constantly checking my rear view mirror. But most importantly, it's time to bring the pizzle back. It's time I deliver on the false promises of a pizzle resurrection made on March 29 . It's time...

*****

My boy Ram called me out in a comment on the last entry, and it's true, I have been putting off an Allen Iverson/praise of the beauty of basketball entry for a ridiculous amount of time. The truth is, I was never happy with it. It's been written and I've gone back to it a few times, but I can't get my words around exactly what I want to express. It seems incomplete and lacking in the exact evocation I was going for. So, rather than torture myself over it, I'm gonna throw it out there. Hell, if Chappelle can score ratings with skits that never made it to air the first time around, there's nothing keeping the pizzle from producing a Greatest Misses edition every now and then.

Here it is then, in all its sputtering glory--

"Cuz either you're slanging crack rock, or you got a wicked jump shot"

In just those few words, Biggie brings together the frustrations and dreams of those living in poverty. It is a mixed message, one of hopelessness and hope. You may not have all the opportunities you want, but you can make it out, and most importantly, affect the lives of others. This, along with the underlying hip-hop ethic of making it but never forgetting where you're from, has been embodied by Biggie, Tupac and Allen Iverson.

Basketball is pretty simple on the surface. Put the ball in the hoop. It's not always natural to think beyond that. Athletes play and fans (to different emotional degrees) support their favorite athletes and teams. But if you watch carefully, from a more detached perspecitve, you start seeing things differently. There's a point where it stops being about physicality or speed, and about personal expression. The fluidity of the game, The lyrical beauty and grace of the motion. Showing who you are, how you feel, by putting the ball in the hoop. Watching Iverson play is like transforming a sport into an art. Watching an artist in the process of discovering himself.

The tattoos and corn rows often lead many to dismiss Iverson as a "punk". Only the Strong Survive (see Spins, Flicks and Words section) serves mainly as a refutation of this unfair characterization. Iverson's life story itself is interesting and unique. It is a very American tale of a supremely gifted hero rising from impossible circumstances to not just succeed personally, but in the process change the way the game is percieved and marketed. It is the story of someone who became a singular symbol of the racial, generational and class divide in America. His attitude, image and insistence on loyalty to where he came from and who helped him get there threatened the white mainstream image of what successful athletes should be. He was not the first to bring the playground version of basketball into the NBA, but he was certainly the most visible. And now, that version is itself big business. Playground ball was ball as an extension of hip-hop culture. DJ's improvised their scratches, graffiti artists spontaneously decorated public spaces, rappers freestyled rhymes, b-boys freestyled on the dance floor, and on the court, playground players brought a balletic, high-flying aesthetic to the game. They made it into a forum for creative expression and, like jazz, like rap, one-on-one spontaneous competition.

The book works well in showing how long the NBA tried to suppress AI and his chosen form of expression. How the sports media continually misrepresented him as a spoiled star who lacked respect for the game. And how long both the media and the league remained blind to the fact that their definition of a star athlete was restrictive and carried with it ugly racial and class biases. In the end, all of this was overcome as the fans saw past the image that was forced on them, and recognized the sincere, genuine appeal of Iverson.

At times, however, Platt too often apologizes for and glosses over some of Iverson's flaws. He tries too hard to bring home his point which was made clear early in the book about how misunderstood Iverson was throughout his career. It's also a little dated since now Iverson's attitude and image have been accepted and even sold as the norm. He almost single handedly raised Reebok's stock price in the mid-90's and for years his jersey outsold all other active players. I also would have liked more in depth accounts of Iverson's playing days. Platt takes an amazing look at his early life, but rushes through his career. We need more stories like the one of Iverson during the 2001 playoffs, when knowing that showing blood would mean leaving the game, he swallowed the blood flowing from a cut lip for an entire quarter.

Iverson's success was achieved on his own terms and his story represents the acceptance of hip-hop as a part of American culture and no longer a threat to it.

But don't take it from me, Page 2 brings it home in a much more eloquent way:

Urban Legend

Platt interview

Book Excerpt One - Tupac with a Jump Shot

Book Excerpt Two - Newport Bad News

More from Eric Neel:

"JKidd or AI?
This is a debate about the soul of the game. Is it in the egalitarian vision and democratic dishing of Jason or is it in AI's Secretariat-sized heart and fearless, give-up-the-body drives to the bucket?

I love Kidd. I love his think pass first, and then making passes only maybe one or two other guys in the history of the league could have thought of and pulled off. He flings passes and the game hovers between five guys like a collective vision, a shared feeling. The way the ball comes off his fingertips -- never lingering too long, never coming to rest -- it's the way Naismith imagined things, I think.

But for all that, if I have to choose just one, I'll take Iverson. What he does night in and night out, at the size, and from the angles, and with the snarl? Un-freakin-believable is what it is. Mi-freakin-raculous. I'm with Willie Nelson on this: My heroes have always been cowboys. "

****
So that was it, please feel free to comment, edit, destroy all you want, its all yours pizzle denizens.

Some random things:

Newport News, VA, Iverson's hometown, is also where Michael Vick is from. Superhuman speed must be in the water.

My props to Russ were somewhat premature. He has since accepted another offer with Citigroup. I now have the best excuse in the world to go to NYC. HOLLA!

I've seen the Roots five times now in concert. When do I officially reach groupie status?

I hate the Lakers.

"put it Right Thurr like Chin-gay
your girl don't like me, how long has she been gay"
---another simple yet effective line from Kanye

Others only dream of the love that I love

Some attributions are in order for the last pizzle entry. The first snippet is from my mainest man right now Kanye West. At this point, my life can be summed up in various Kanye West quotes, the man is effin' brilliant.

The next quote is from He Got Game . It is Denzel's character, Jake, giving advice to his son Jesus. The last is from a Blink song.

I realize it reads extremely random to the casual observer, but I wanted to capture the rush of emotions and thoughts in my head at the time, and thats what came out.

Lastly, to give another push to my high spirits, my boy Russ got the job offer from ComScore that he had been hoping for. So big ups to him again.

****

"I'm twisted cuz one side of me is tellin' me that I need to move on
On the other side I wanna break down and cry"
----Usher

"and it's okay if you have to go away
just remember the telephone works both ways
and if I never ever hear it ring
if nothing else I'll think the bells inside
have finally found you someone else and that's okay
cause I'll remember everything you sang

you and I both loved what you and I spoke of
and others just read of and if you could see now
well I'm already finally out of words."
----Jason Mraz

Rain, rain, rain go away, Let the sun come out, and all the children say

"I woke up early this mornin' with a new state of mind
A creative way to rhyme without usin' nines and guns
Keep your nose out the sky, keep your heart to God
And keep your face to the risin' sun"

****

Amidst the enveloping embraces and cherry flavored smoke, I fixed it. My universe is in balance again. I rule.

"Let me tell you something son, you get that hatred out your heart, or you'll end up just another nigga, like your father. "

"Don't waste your time on me, you're already, a voice inside my head."

****

Congratulations and much love Russ, you deserve this.

Errrbody in the club....

Thursday March 4, 2004:

Russ: Dude, if you don't come to New Orleans, we are no longer friends.

Me (in my head): Ok so what are the pros - weekend o' fun in a city I've never been to before, the Cons - I'm still shacked up in a hotel because my stuff has not arrived from Illinois and its making me anxious, and I'll be pretty damn tired Friday night...(more thinking)

Friday March 5, 2004:

Tangie Wibbels (yes, that is her real name) @3:30pm: Yes, we can delay your move from Saturday to Monday morning.

Me (in my head): HOLLLLAAAA!!!!

******

So that settled it, despite the indecision in my head, I knew a chance like this would not present itself for a long time. Why overthink it? I packed my shit, jumped in my rented Chevy Malibu, got onto I-10 and hit the gas (well not really, I had to fight Houston traffic for awhile). I swept through the dark and misty swamps of Lousiana in about 5 and a half hours and despite the best efforts of Russ, actually found my way towards my crew, The New Orleans Eight.

I knew immediately this would be a great weekend. How? I saw Bushra smoking a cigarette, in other words This Girl was already Drizzy. In probably my only responsible move of the weekend, I declined a Hurricane (one of the most efficient ways to get drunk ever) until after a few bites of po' boy. But after that "dinner" all bets were off, and the Big Easy was made our bitch.

Random reflections:

The first thing that struck me about the French Quarter was the stench. That muggy, stagnant, sewage-y aroma we all know and love. We were a rickshaw and a couple of stray dogs away from Dhaka for real.

Despite the Third World ambience, NO definitely has its own seedy charm. It was like a totally uninhibited Vegas party vibe within a 19th century twilight zone time warp. The architecture and mystique definitely adds a special twist to the non-stop party.

If you know whats good for you, dont ever swim in the pool at the Travelodge on the Westbank. Just trust me.

I found out the drunken way, but Taco Bell no longer sells 10 packs of tacos. Damn. I used to love those.

I've now heard it from both males and females, so it's official: I'm a good cuddler.

Somebody, anybody, please find the bartenders in New Orleans some glass shot glasses. Please do this.

If you love food, go to New Orleans and eat, eat, eat, eat ,eat. The cuisine is amazing.

Don't hate on guys clowning around on the dance floor and being a little (ok it was alot) homoerotic. If you can't be homoerotic with your best friends, who can you be homoerotic with? (I'll say homoerotic one more time just to make it even)

I almost felt like I was in Singapore again, just wandering around intoxicated, my sense of adventure piqued, and relentlessly squeezing every ounce of fun that I possibly could out of every moment. Of course I was aided ably in this endeavor by the very best of friends which only made things better.

I said it before, but I'll say it again, Kamal is one of the most sincere people ever. Here's to you bro. And you're probably too drunk to remember me telling you this the first time, but when you do go up to accept your Oscar, you gotta pull that Bangladeshi flag out of your pocket! Also, work on your Gaydar when youre drinking. (those are cheles!!!)

Debbie puts the sweet in sweetheart.

Remember what I said about my Mou Apu back in July? You can pretty much say the same about Bushra, with just a little less inhibition and a pinch of pop culture hipness. When you can love hanging out with someone, but then totally shutup when she scolds you for singing Bangla folk songs too loudly, you know you've got a good combination.

Russ is the only person I know that can seamlessly mix deep insight with really, really, really, really, ridiculously crass humor. But it cracks me up every single time.

I love my bhaiya and my bhabi.

It seemed as if every force in the universe conspired to make it a perfect weekend. The friends, the weather, the music, the food and the "spirits". My abs hurt from laughing for 48 hours straight, and I can't even complain about my mad Red Bull-fueled dash back to Houston at 1 am Monday morning. It was worth every second. So I raise my styrofoam cup of water (yes, I'm still at work) to the New Orleans Eight and toast to a wonderful time, wonderful friends (and family) and to hoping we can do it again soon.

*****

"Woohooooooo"
---Bushra A.

Do you know the way back to the hotel?
"Yeah, you just go down, then...you go down."
----Kamal A.

"I'm a Jellyfish."
----Russ A.

then what makes love the exception?

Damn its been a long time, but its about damn time I came back. Damn.

First, I shall be leaving the frozen tundra of Chi-town for the cool gulf coast breezes, smog and traffic of Houston, but honestly, I'm pretty excited. I've had much fun here, especially these last few weeks and apparently I will miss out on the "awesome" summers, but, for now, the homeland beckons.

Second, in honor of the latest big change in my life, and Outkast's recent Grammy win for Album of the Year there is a new tag line for the pizzle! (Congratulations to them, I couldn't be happier for hip-hop, but this begs the question, Is hip-hop now OFFICIALLY mainstream? Is this good or bad? Also, I love Coldplay as much as the next guy, but how did "Hey Ya" not win Record of the Year? That has to be the best song from the last few years, I mean come on, has a song ever been stuck in your head and you DIDN'T want to get rid of it? "Hey Ya" is that song, anyone who doesn't like it should have their CD player revoked immediately)

For many months, the pizzle has been neglected, but on 12.30.03 "becki" became the first surfer that I don't know personally to visit AND leave a comment (on my Three Kings entry from back in October). Galvanized by the fact that someone who I've never met or talked to or has actually seen my little humble stop on the information superhighway, and by the fact that I will soon be able to walk around outside without my nose hairs freezing, I shall be making entries with much more regularity.

Soon, I will post a list of my movie "chill moments", a concept borrowed from the Sports Guy of ESPN's Page 2. These are scenes or parts of scenes in a movie that are just so good, so affecting, that you actually, physically get chills watching them.

Also, since the start of the NBA season I've been working on an "why Allen Iverson is so great and important" entry that has never been completed or met with my satisfaction. But since the All-star break is coming up, I think it's about time I stop dilly dallying and get it out.

Lastly, Kanye West's solo joint, College Dropout, will FINALLY be released this Tuesday February 10. To mark that occasion, I'll make a Kanye entry I've been meaning to make since, hell, since I first heard "Through the Wire" a year ago. That should also provide the impetus for an update of the long stagnated Spins, Flicks, and Words section.

That should do it for now, remember, in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make (did I get that right? I always mix up the take and the make) and always, always, shake it like a polaroid picture.

******

"Whoever looks for the truth deserves punishment for finding it. "
----Naomi Watts as Christina Peck in 21 Grams

"Free ain't easy. Free is real. And real's a motherfucker. "
----Jamie Foxx as Bundini Brown in Ali

"The only true currency in this bankrupt world...is what you share with someone else when you're uncool. "
----Philip Seymour Hoffman as Lester Bangs in Almost Famous

"I'm the only normal one left around here. I'm a black Jew, I'm half drunk and I cant read. "
----Bundini Brown (again)

"You were right....It doesn't go away"

President Bartlet: Do you have a best friend?

Secretary of Agriculture: Yes sir

President Bartlet: Is he smarter than you?

Secretary: Yes sir

President Bartlet: Do you trust him with your life?

Secretary: Yes sir...

President: Make him your Chief of Staff

its not hard to fall....

so...my category database is fucked, or something. i dont know. but apparently, new entries are posting, and people can see them so...anyways, not much going on....i'm hella drunk, and i wish, more than anything else in the world that i was in austin, doing whatever i could to make sonia feel better. she's really sick, and its killing me that im in fucking waukegan illinois. but all i can do is be wasted and listen to "cannonball" by damien rice over and over again. i wish this was a few months ago. i could be with the people i should be with. there was no bad feelingness. just love. all the way around. and fun. and best friends. and i have officially made the switch from hyper drunk (i was just reenacting the kings-wolves game in my living room by myself) to weepy drunk. i told this to veni (keyur's ex) a few minutes ago, "dont let the typing fool you, i'm mad drunk". there are probably not that many typos in this entry, but i am pretty gone. with that pizzle denizens. I am out. peace and love brothers and sisters. keep it real, and show love.

"cry together,
lie together,
i swear to god i hope we fuckin' die together."
----Biggie Smalls
(the best MC that ever lived proves he can move beyond the narrative and throw true emotion into his street tales. his impassioned delivery and strained voice gives these lines their humanity. long live B.I.G.)

testing

database issues is causing many a problem to the pizzle, this is just a test entry!!

Hey Ho, Let's Go

Singapore 2001 is fully up and organized, although at the moment, captionless. Due to the sensitive nature of some of the pictures it is password protected. Once you're at the gallery, click on login in the upper right corner, the user name is User. Hit me up at sheelpi@sheelpi.com and I'll send you the password.

word up.

Mississippi-lessly??

I don't know why pizzle updates have been so few and far between. I really don't do much besides work and then after work, try and keep myself busy with books, music and movies. Keyur's departure leaves me drained alot of the time. But I think it's time I plowed on.

First, new tagline. My brain is still unstable, and I'm still fucking handsome as hell, but after much deliberation I've decided to go with the best line from the most climactic moment in the final scene of 8 Mile . The entire movie up to this point was about Jimmy struggling to find his voice. It was about his fight to define his identity on his own terms. Throughout the different battles in the last scene we can see Jimmy slowly gaining confidence, moving from timid to confrontational and whimsical,

"You look like Snoop Dogg just got a fucking boob job"

and finally, to complete rage and defiance,

"You don't know what the fuck I been through. "

Like Travis Bickle, he'd had enough and he was standing up. Living his life, however imperfect, his way.

******

Secondly, with the help of G, I've set up a photo gallery! It is still heavily under construction, but I'm super stoked about being able to offer a pictoral glimpse of the Shlep (since, as some of you know, I'm not so good with the words).

Right now, I'm working on the albums making up my two most formative experiences, dorm living at Moore-Hill and studying abroad in Singapore. The Dorm pics are many, but I hopefully have made semi-entertaining captions and I also hope my compatriots do not get too embarassed. There is also a plethora of Singapore pictures that I'm still organizing, but for now follow the link in the sidebar and enjoy what is there, there's plenty more to come!

*****

"When Microsoft asks me to send in an error report I usually don't because it feels like I'm tattling on my own computer."
----David Fleming, senior writer for ESPN the Magazine

Here is a man who stood up

"My friend drove off the other day,
And now he's gone and all they say,
Is you gotta live cuz life goes on...

But now I see I'm mortal, too,
I can't live my life like you,
Gotta live it up, while life goes on.

And I think that it's all right,
That I do what I like,
Cuz that's the way I wanna live.
And so I give, and I'm still givin'...

And now I wonder 'bout my friend,
If he gave all he could give,
Cuz he lived his life like I live mine.

...And I think that it's all right,
That I do what I like,
Cuz that's the way I wanna live.
And so I give, and I'm still givin'...

...Gotta make a plan,
Gotta do what's right,
Can't run around in circles,
If you wanna build a life,
But I don't wanna make a plan,
For a day far away,
While I'm young and while I'm able,
All I wanna do is..."
----Green Day, "JAR"

***

"If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames,
but have not love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not boast,
it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self seeking,
its is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.

It always protects, always trusts,
always hopes, always perseveres."
---Corinthians 12:12

***

"If heaven exists, what do you think God would say to you?"

"If heaven exists, He's got alot of explaining to do."
---Robert De Niro on Inside the Actor's Studio

***

"And suddenly the sound of his pet name, uttered by his father as he has been accustomed to hearing it all his life, means something completely new, bound up with a catastrophe he unwittingly embodied for years. "Is that what you think of when you think of me?" Gogol asks him. "Do I remind you of that night?"

"Not at all," his father says eventually, one hand going to his ribs, a habitual gesture that has baffled Gogol until now. "You remind me of everything that followed."
---Jhumpa Lahiri, "The Namesake"

Good Luck with Allll That

It's not just that we had so many inside jokes and references that only we had any hope of understanding, it's that we had our own fucking language. On more than one occasion, late at night, we filled either Junior or Aaliyah with some of Alex's finest, and whichever guest of the week was over partaking with us (because Keyur was always so inclusive), would try to have a conversation. Unfortunately, in that state of mind, at that time of night, Keyur and I would just slip into secret code mode and just talk to each other, about anything and everything, completely oblivious to anyone else in the room, who had no idea what we were talking about anyway. The first time my brother and Sabrina came over, one of the first things they said to me was, "You guys talk exactly the same". You're goddamn right we did.

(I wonder if heaven has broadband? If not, they do now)

Despite his inhabiting the role that we all put on him as the buffoon. Despite the everyday verbal slips and phyiscal clutziness, he was a genius. I know his conversational language mistakes made for much hilarity, but also I know he beat me at Scrabble, twice. And I don't know shit about programming but I know he got job offers from Microsoft, Apple and JPL. And I know he turned them all down to stay close to his parents.

I tended to underestimate how fiercely he cared about me. About everyone really. The joy of others was his joy. Their pain was his. I liked that we were opposites in all the right ways. Our minds just sort of fit together. The only thing we didn't see eye to eye on was the appropriate level of pulp in the orange juice. I'm glad I took the chance to room with him when everyone else seemed to be a little wary of him. I think it took them longer to see how consciously he tried to better himself, how hard he worked to change the things people found annoying, over zealous and intrusive about him. I really hated when, in a group of people, Keyur would talk or laugh really loudly and everyone would look at him as if he had just committed some heinous crime. I'd quitely seethe at the looks and the eye-rolls that he would get if he was ever just a little louder than everyone else. So what if he laughs loudly you sanctimonious fuck. Who the fuck are you? Just because he laughs loudly you hold him in some sort of social contempt? You have no fucking idea about the greatness of that laugh. Because his laugh was something else, something unique, like he was unafraid to show the world his happiness. Like he was expressing the joy for everyone who was afraid to at that moment. Damn right it was loud. His laugh could make an average joke into an uplifting experience. It could fill an entire room with its brightness. It could shatter windows and break down doors. It could force its way into the coldest of places and fill it with warmth. I wish I could hear that laugh again, that laugh that could tear through the sky with its power, parting the clouds and ripping the blueness apart. I wish I could reach up through that hole in the sky, past this fucking world. Past all the bullshit. Past all the little stresses of everyday life, past all the gas prices and credit card payments. Past all the gossip and pretention. Past all the traffic jams and football scores. I wish I could reach up past all of that, and, even if just for a second...I wish I could bring my friend back.

Here's to hoping that he didnt have any pants on at the time...

I still remember how you used to roll up on our dorm room back in the day, and I'd think, damn why that fool always gotta be up in here talking? Little did I know...Thanks for always ALWAYS having my back and holding me down. thanks for letting me in and allowing me listen to everything you've got to say. (which is so wonderfully much) Thanks for being my comedic kindred spirit and partner in crime, always up for anything...for coming up with crazy shit all the time. Dont be upset she told me this, but sonia mentioned that that day said was in jail and you two bonded, you told her that sometimes i snap with something hurtful or mean, often without even knowing. I know you dont think anything of it, but I remember each and every single time because of regret and guilt. Also, know that those things would never ever happen with just anyone...only a brother. I'll never forget Cali or NY, Spanish Trails and especially this last year at Sandstone, where, if i may so myself, we kicked ass and took so many goddamn names!! Dont stay in India too long, our worlds wont function as well over here without regular doses of the Fury.

I miss you...

"Eh, Hello, Word Up, Okay?"

Fare thee well...

"It's times like these you learn to live again

it's times like these you give and give again

it's times like these you learn to love again

it's times like these time and time again

I'm a new day rising

I'm a brand new sky to hang the stars upon tonight

but I

I'm a little divided

do I stay or run away and leave it all behind "

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

So what does the return of broadband and the end of the month-long wedding extravaganza mean? That's right folks, the pizzle is back. Of course, the sporadicness (is that a word?) won't end, I'm going to be making the big move pretty soon, but nonetheless, it feels good to be back.

After taking a few days to recover and reflect, I'm still having trouble articulating my thoughts on the past month, so I'm just gonna throw out some observations in no particular order.

My mom's youngest brother, Choto Mama, is still, by far, the coolest man on the planet.

Traffic in Houston can suck my nuts.

God help me if I see the inside of Garden Ridge ever again.

I logged a preposterous amount of driving miles both in Dallas and in Houston (and in between). Not that I minded being the designated chauffer/go-fetch boy, I believe I have regained my pre-truck-accident air of invincibility behind the wheel of my 98 Camry.

My cousin Mou Apu is a really cool, hip version of my mom and her sisters. This, as I've said before, is not a bad thing. It is a very good thing.

Mou Apu, Choto Mama and I have decided that we love Ankhi so much we are going to adopt her into our family.

I discovered I have no great love for most of dad's sisters (except Sajjid's mom from New York). They are pretty self-centered and very ineffecient. This wedding would've been a disaster if all was left up to them. I do care about them, but not in the unquestioning devoted kind of way I love my mom's family or even our surrogate family group here in the Dallas area.

I can't decide whether I like my new reputation after the fights at the wedding in Houston. I guess it depends on how it really turns out. If people think I'm a total hothead, I don't like it. But if they recognize that the ugliness came out only because my brother was in percieved danger, then I suppose I'm ok with it. That's alot closer to the truth. I don't have a temper at all, just don't touch my brother.

Speaking of the fights, I was astounding by how quickly accounts of the incidents spread and became exaggerated. Unbelievable. Within minutes I had apparently beat Sabrina's cousin to the ground and then beat him some more. This was news to me. And just to set the record straight. I was not going for Saif on the stage, and Said did not hit anyone, at any point during the second fight. Not that it matters that I'm trying to set things right, people have unfortunately made up their minds, oh well. Next time, just dont touch my brother.

The bullshit grapevine, back-biting rumor mill among Bangladeshi women (of all ages, and even among some of my favorite aunties) must stop. It is more damaging than I think they realize. I wish they would fucking grow up.

According to my mom's work friends who came to the reception, I look like Rob Lowe. I have no comment.

I was voted Best Dressed by my peers at the reception. I'm flattered but could've done without the extra attention. I just wanted to surprise my mom with the "Prince coat".

My post-Vegas vow never to go another strip club was violated, but my reasons for trying to uphold it remains. It's just not my scene.

Mou Apu's husband Babla bhai AKA "Goofiest Guy Ever", asked for my thoughts on the wedding Sunday night after it was all over. I, surprisingly, even to myself, said that despite the hard work, frustration, dealing with difficult people and sleepless nights, it was alot of fun. Not that I would ever do it again, but I only have one brother, and his happiness is of the utmost importance. Therefore, all the work, the "khatni" if you will, was justified.

Also, I learned alot about myself, about my capacity for hard work, my patience for dealing with those who are not working as hard (which did unfortunately run out at times) and for my ability to not get bogged down too much in the stress and just have fun. Props to Choto Mama and Ziyad for keeping things light even during times of the worst khatni.

Most importantly, this whole experience allowed me to reconnect and reaffirm the bonds with my closest family and friends that had sort of weakened after 5 years in Austin. Being able to spend so much time with people like my Mou Apu, my Choto Mama, Ziyad, Ankhi, etc, has been invaluable. I rediscovered what good fortune I have to be surrounded by such wonderful people. I never thought I would miss them this much, but after going through such a difficult and stressful process with them, I really will miss everyone alot. I hope by moving away (again) I can this time keep up the strong ties. Of course, Russ once said that the mark of true family and friends is to be able to pick up right where you left off no matter how much time has lapsed since the last time you were together. So hopefully, at the next wedding or whatever, we will have just a good of a time.
As long as it doesn't involve any trips to Garden Ridge.

******

" Hey, don't write yourself off yet.
It's only in your head you feel left out or
looked down on.
Just do your best, do everything you can.
And don't you worry what the bitter hearts are gonna say.
It just takes some time, little girl you're in the middle of the ride.
Everything will be just fine, everything will be alright."

-----Jimmy Eat World

He will follow

I know I may have seemingly abandoned the pizzle as of late, but my parents moved into a new house (so no internet) and wedding preparations are kicking into high gear. hopefully in a couple of weeks, I'll be back...until then homies and homettes, peace out.

"The hard part of faith to get your head around is believing God exists. The rest is arguments over the details."

----Gregg Easterbrook, senior editor of New Republic, a contributing editor of The Atlantic Monthly and a visiting fellow at the Brookings Institution, and most importantly, Page 2 columnist.

"I never will forget those nights
I wonder if it was a dream
Remember how you made me crazy?
Remember how I made you scream"

---Boys of Summer, Don Henley and most recently The Ataris

Bitch-slapped by karma

Rejuvenated and re-energized after my little sojourn to the south, I'm back amidst the chaos of home. Although way too short, good times were had by all. Coming later tonight to a screen near you, my thoughts on the White Stripes in concert and random news bits. Peace out.

"I drink and drown in my own iniquity,
but fuck it, I'ma rap till you all get sick of me."
----Kon Artis

The greatest trick the devil ever pulled...

You may have noticed a new tag-line for the pizzle. It's a line from "Thought at Work" from the Roots' new album Phrenology. I love this album, in fact it will be included in the next Spins, Flicks and Words update. "Thought at Work" is my favorite song from Phrenology (having replaced "The Seed 2.0" which I bludgeoned myself with through repeated listenings). Anyway, so its my new tag-line, because I'm not so stable and come on, look at me, I'm damn sexy.

You may also have noticed that there is a new link on the exciting sidebar. My big brother is getting married in July and he has created an informative website. Planning for this thing will take up the majority of my time this month, but I want it to be the greatest wedding ever, because its my brother and he deserves it. In general, I despise weddings, but the fringe benefits of getting to hang out with family and friends who I only see once or twice a year is what I really look forward to. We should have a solid couple weeks straight of shenanigans. Houston won't know what hit them.

...was convincing the world he didn't exist.

I'm not a nerd, I'm an intellectual

A correction to the last post: The last sentence in the fifth paragraph is missing an "as". Thanks to the astute (nerdy) eyes of Sonia.

So why the big gap in posts? Well first of all there was all the shenanigans that ensue during the last week of anything. "oh lets do this, lets do that, its the last time, its the last time." In Singapore, we went out about 9 nights in a row just on that premise. This time wasn't all that intensive, but something similar was inevitable. Plus, there was moving, which I am so sick of, but at the same time, I also don't like being the same place for very long...yes my life is one big conundrum.

I'm super excited about the Mavs playoff run. I have to admit, despite my unequivocal support the realist basketball fan was always questioning their heart and toughness. But coming into San Antonio and taking game one after two seven-game series is pretty amazing. I need to rock that Finley jersey soon.

I'm sad, however, that the Sixers lost and Iverson crapped out in a couple of the games during the Detroit series. I blame Van Horn's gimpiness. After finishing Larry Platt's biography on AI, Only the Strong Survive, watching Iverson play is alot more enlightening. At the same time, watching him not really play like he has in the past is frustrating. I highly recommend the book to anyone interested in basketball, and anyone interested in how pop culture and race interact in American society. I'll post a full review in the next Spins, Flicks and Words update.

"You broke my soul, dear, you stole the plot, you left an empty shot.
There's nothing left here, 'cos you took the lot.
An empty cage is all i've got.
'Cos when your bird has flown away, she was never meant to stay.
Oh to keep her caged would just delay the spring."
-----Travis

RIP Jay...We did it

""So what the deal, my nigga, I know you holdin’ it down
If you could see me you would say I’m talkin’ soft
right now
But it’s hard for me to see when I’mma see you again
And I know it’s fucked up, I gotta talk through this
pen"

4/30/99 - Leave no regrets. No one close to me has ever died before. In eighth grade, my chacha came to us dying of Hepatitis, but I didn’t know him at all. Just that he was my father’s brother. But I had to watch him deteriorate, but harder than that I had to watch my mother cope on her own, with me, my brother’s seizures beginning at tams and my dying uncle. How did she do it? I still don’t know. Because she’s Ammu, that’s the only real reason.

In 11th grade, nana died but it was half way across the world, and my contact with him consisted of three months every three years. Once again, I only knew the suffering of loss through my mother. My father lost his father and his immediate younger brother in the war. He has never spoken about it at all, in my eighteen years. Only once or twice has he mentioned them in passing. In a curious way I wondered how he felt, what it was like to lose someone. I think I know now. Sort of.

Me and Jay were tight in school, we had a connection that I didn’t have with anyone else. We were strictly school friends for a long time, but we bonded. He was a little on the crazy side for me in terms of having fun, and then I moved to Plano. So seeing each other outside of school became difficult. No regrets? Yeah right, I wanted to call him when I called Jason and Binoj over Christmas break. But why didn’t I?

I still don’t know.

"We had the same ideas, but not the same careers
We shared the same old laughs, and now the same tears"

Everything seems hollow, empty, there’s a sick distance between me and what happened. It’s a tragedy in the broad human and in the personal senses, but how does effect me? I cant let it not affect me. Nothing really changed, I hadn’t seen him or spoken to him since august, and now it will be never right? I was so determined to hook up this summer, be buds again, laugh at the freaks, talk music, man he was so cool.

"You were my homie, my sconey, my Roni
My nigga, and never placed no bitch before me
Man, I sear to God I love you for that shit
Why’d you have to get hit
Where was I, what time was it"

We understood each other, he really reached out to me, the first time that’s really ever happened in a friendship. I cant let it not affect me. I have to take something from this. I was never able to talk to him, to maybe even see his wounds, even if I couldn’t heal them. But the funny thing is, its not that surprising. Shocking yes, but after the news you could see why without any real effort. Jay had incredible gifts, smart talented, he could wail like nobody’s business on the guitar. He decided to leave, and in turn I must decide to carry on for him, with him.

"You were supposed to get older with me
On stage, hands on shoulders with me
Coppin’ them Range Rovers with me
Sittin’ on thangs and smokin’ trees"

I cant waste my gifts, not after this. Jay wouldn’t accept it, he was the kind of guy who knew what was best for others, but not himself. He decided to leave because he couldn’t find a way out of wasting his gifts. I think. I cant ever know for sure. But regardless, we are all the worse off for his decision. Tortured genius? Possibly. Lost very talented lower middle class suburban soul. No doubt.

"And if it wasn’t for the will that God had made
I’d turn back the hands of time and take your place"

Jay, I cant say I knew you all that well, but I know I felt a bond with you that was unique, you were the coolest person to chill with at Smith. For me at least. All those haters and shit. You loved to have fun and you loved to party, but I guess it got to you. Did you feel unimportant, lost, a failure? Could I have helped? Who knows, but you’re not forgotten, and you were important, and I cant stand that I didn’t call you, but if you’re there, anywhere, now, I love you bro. But I’m going to go on just like I did at graduation only this time, you’re going with me. I’m gonna make our lives great, you’ll be proud, I’ll stay real and whatever disappointments and sadness that you felt, whatever drove you to take your own life, you can forget now. Cuz I have, and from here on out its just you and me and the world. I’ll make sure to leave no regrets.

"Even when you’re gone you will always be my nigga
When you went home I’m still missin’ you, my nigga
I’m feelin’ like the timing was wrong, my nigga
I know you’re smilin’ down sayin’ carry on, my nigga"

5/1/99 - I still cant believe I never called. Is it fair for me to begin enjoying my life again? Is it fair for me to grieve? Did I know him that well? What does he think? What do you think Jay? You’d probably want me to enjoy life right. You were never one to stand in the way of anyone else, and you never liked when someone stood in yours, I guess in that way this is the ultimate declaration of personal freedom. Taking into your own hands your fate.

"Some times my nights can get long, my nigga
Some times I feel God did me wrong, my nigga
So I had to write a song, my nigga
Just to let you know that you’re still my nigga"

After a night of melancholy and confusion, and a day of pretending nothing was wrong, I’m gonna remember you for all that you were, and our good times. For some reason I keep expecting that when I go back, none of this will turn out to be true, but that’s just what distance does I guess. But distance is what made this so hard for me in the first place. Not being there, but most importantly not even trying to get in touch. I just, I just want you to know I always kept you in my mind, and now you’ll always be in my heart.

"It’s so easy for folks to say, "Rob, just live on"
When I’m dyin’ every second that you’re gone
Nevertheless I try my best to be strong
Hopin’ you said your prayers before you went on home"

RYDE OR DIE. I know you chose the latter, and I have to respect, but I’m choosing to ryde, for the both of us, I want to let you know I didn’t forget you then, I won’t now. And I’m just one of the many boys who is gonna miss the hell out of you. Remember our A-day lunch crew? Shit, it was us and the world in front of us man. God and I was so determined to call you this summer when I got back.

"When we stood on these blocks and just shot the breeze
We’d slapbox dead in the middle of streets
And if a fight broke out, you would take up for me
Now all I have left of these ghetto memories"

What the fuck. I want to be angry at you, but that’s selfish. You did what you thought you had to, so I’m gonna go past all the regrets and bullshit emotions and just remember you, and try to live my life the best way possible to show the world that your life and death wasn’t in vain. I think that’s the way you would’ve wanted it, and I’m gonna remember you as the only guy I could talk to about classic rock and hip-hop within the same sentence. And our connection as a couple of brown boys who understood and felt each other.

Flesh of my flesh blood of my blood….. I was never able to spend time with you outside of school like the other guys, and that’s really my biggest regret. I never got close to you like I always knew I should’ve. So I’m just writing all this down, to get all my feelings out and to let you know how I plan to go out with you by my side no matter what. I’ll never listen to Van Halen or Prince the same way again.

He found Ghetto Heaven in himself and God

As you can see I did away with that silly calendar and add the Spins, Flicks and Words section. To move away from the pure blogness of the site (as my original intent and as requested by G) I will start reviewing more regularly. The new sidebar includes a list of movies, music and books that I will offer my self-important opinions on. Hopefully I will establish a semi-regular schedule for writing reviews and updating the list.

Note: The list will not always be current things simply because I can't always keep up and also most current things don't interest me. I'll try to mix in older things that I feel no one should go on with out experiencing.

Three more days....

Go Mavs!!

As much as I love watching the Blazers (they're so emotionally volatile, its like watching someone open a Coke can thats been severely shaken up), and as much as I doubt the Mavs ability to play tough in the paint against the Spurs, Kings or Lakers, I still gotta give it up to my boys.

So I'm still working on revising my thesis and reflecting on all the different kinds of reactions I got whenever I told people I was writing a thesis. From sympathy to pity to why-the-hell-would-you-put-yourself-through-such-an-ordeal, I got it all. Even more entertaining was people's reactions when I told them the subject: International Labor Rights and Corporate Responsibility. Most of the time it was, "oooh sounds complicated", and of course I smile sheepishly and say not really. After five years in Plan II, I've more or less perfected the art of sounding smarter than I really am.

But on the real, my thesis is pretty interesting. I just wish I didnt have to write it in my last semester after five years because the desire to live it up during my last few college months overrode the desire to give the subject its due treatment. As a business and liberal arts student the "social responsibility vs. profit issue" has always loomed large for me. This thesis gave me a chance to really sink my teeth into it and as much as I whine and complained this semester, I genuinely enjoyed the opportunity. Thanks Plan II, I just wish I had given myself more time to do research more throroughly and write a really comprehensive thesis.

The legal aspect of holding US companies liable for being complicit in human rights violations I think is the most important issue I had to address. The Unocal decision last September I think will go a long way to prevent unscrupulous companies from benefitting from violations of fundamental human rights. It also disheartening to see the state departments position on the Exxon case. This kind of blatant disregard for human rights makes me truly ashamed of the government.

On a lighter note...GO MAVS!! 2-0!!

Return of Mars

So yes, the other day I was watching MTV, when all of a sudden an old Nike commercial came on. Before five seconds had passed, I was 10 years old again. Mars Blackmon (played by Spike Lee) and Michael Jordan joining forces one more time to sell shoes. Mars was one of my heroes growing up. A little Bangla boy like me had no hope of reaching Jordan's status, but Mars, with his oversized clothing, big glasses and endearing superfanatic attitude, got to HANG OUT with Michael, and he didnt even have to bust his ass on the court. I was sucked into the mega-marketing machine, but I dont think I mind even now. Mars gave me an avenue to relate to the superhuman athletes I watched on TV. So while I never did buy a pair of overpriced Jordan's, all of a sudden commercial watching became a necessary past-time to sports watching.

We didnt know it at the time, but as pre-teens who were coming of age during Michael Jordan's ascendancy, we were witnessing a revolution in sports marketing. On the court, Jordan was on the cusp of moving from really really good to demi-god status. Off of it, the global Jordan brand was also about to hit the stratosphere. Sure, athletes had always endorsed products and clever athlete commercials go back to the '60s and '70s. But with Michael Jordan and Nike, the athlete shoe commercial became a fixture in pop culture. Jordan's mix of athletic accomplishment, charisma and crossover appeal turned him from the best basketball player ever to one of the most recognized humans on the planet. Nowadays, we expect shoe and sports drink commercials to wow us, but back then no one really saw it coming.

So, big ups to Nike for this wonderful piece of nostalgia, I may or may not buy Nike's now but hey...I love the commercials.

Do you know, Do you know, Do you know?

Found out last night that my thesis is due April 30. I've been lax as hell about it and I dont want to give my wonderful adviser, Professor Kate Mackie who has given me waaaay too much latitude thus far, any grief. So that means that April 29, I have my final presentation for Accounting. And on the 30th, I have two tests and the bound copy of "the culmination" of my five years is due. Yippee.

On a happy note...I'm ecstatic to see the return of Mars Blackmon...more on this later

Starting Slow

So finally, after much pain and anguish, sheelpi.com is up and running. Thanks to Ram and Keyur for making it happen. Over the course of the last few weeks I've been writing my thesis for Plan II which of all us pseudo-intellectual nerds have to do before we graduate. I found that writing my own stuff was a good break from the thesis writing, so I will be posting all of that as time goes on. Until next time homies and homettes....Peace out.

testing

eh hello! testing testing

ek do teen