RIP MTV

Music Version Television is dead. It's been dead. Long since forgotten.

Michael made you, Spring Break made you naughty, TRL was iconic (CARSONNNNN), and all your stupid, trashy Jersey Shores, Teen Moms, The Hills (even Real World is lame now) and whatever other shows DESTROYED YOU.

You told us never to turn our back on the music. Look what you've done.

I have no where to go to find new artists. I have no idea what a music video is anymore. WHY IS THERE EVEN A VMAs since there is NO OUTLET TO VIEW THEM ON? (sorry BET, CMT, VH1, you've never cut it).

MTV, you were the last remaining hope for a music generation. You weren't taken over by disgusting reality shows and you kept it real and true to musical roots.

John Norris and Sway kept music education alive. Carson kept videos alive. Artists could make it with MTV.

Now, there is no platform and no voice to good tunes.

Real music fans have no where to go.


If I wanted a trailer park, I'd go find one.

Why Does Love Need A Holiday?

I've always disliked Valentine's Day whether it be because of the chocolate coma leading up to and the let down after, the bitter and cynical nature of my ways since I've never had the conventional Valentine (single's awareness day!), or knowing it's not simple anymore like in elementary school where everyone made a box and everyone received a cute Disney-themed valentine.

Year after year I've watched the mania and over-hype. Husbands and boyfriends freak out about finding a dozen red roses (let alone the price of them) with a box of chocolates or some fancy dinner and weekend getaway. Not to mention, he better propose (how cliche!). Wives and girlfriends expect to be pampered and showered with all of these things and maybe a little extra.

Because....why?

Because that date on the calendar says so? Since when does love include expectations and pressure to outdo last year's surprise?

Honestly, Valentine's Day is a joke and a scam.

Love is not a holiday and there should never be so much emphasis on one day. If someone I'm in love with has to wait an entire year to do all these nice things for me then forget it, don't waste your time (more so mine).

If it's really, truly love then there is no price tag and it is no trouble to surprise me with flowers any old time just because. If it were real then I'd be swept off my feet just by seeing and spending time with him after a long day (of course, a few actual scenarios of "being swept off my feet" wouldn't hurt every now and again).

Real love does not feel obliged to show it on a "holiday." It doesn't demand or expect. And it surely does not take all this effort to show someone they're loved.

Sure, I am a hopeless romantic (who isn't, honestly), but I also know it can't be everyday. If anyone wants to surprise me then do it on a day other than February 14. It would mean so much more to me just as it would to the other person.

If I ever find love, there will be no Valentine's. I want to relax with him all night, have a home cooked meal, and remember why it is I love him.

Really, why do you have to show someone you love them? Isn't looking them in the eye and saying "I love you" enough?

How beautifully simple is that?

Love is the little things. It's simple, kind, and not meant for an over-commercialized holiday (get your stuffed heart bears, candies, and sickening red, white, and pink whatevers...such keepsakes).

The injustice of it all.

The Will of Isis

"I am nature, the universal Mother, mistress of all the elements, primordial child of time, sovereign of all things spiritual, queen of the dead, queen of the ocean, queen also of the immortals, the single manifestation of all gods and goddesses that are, my nod governs the shining heights of Heavens, the wholesome sea breezes. Though I am worshiped in many aspects, known by countless names ... some know me as Juno, some as Bellona ... the Egyptians who excel in ancient learning and worship call me by my true name...Queen Isis."


Pharaoh forever etched in jade and lapis.
_________________________________

The dawning of choice.
By sundown Egypt will worship her Queen.
Eternally.

The chamber of women tingles.
Our gold-plated sandals echo insecurities.
Silk curtains waltz to tension.
Platters of polished grapes wait, untouched.
Roman wine in ivory cups stand, stillness.

Pharaoh's voice calls,
We, women, stand in transparent garb,
Charcoal eyes fix nervously to the tiled floor.

Gold wristbands clink as women
are announced in Pharaoh's private rooms.
Pharaoh must choose his mate.

Reed fans announce my arrival.
The last.
My heart barely whispers,
My dress glimmers against my shape,
Tickling the desire of Pharaoh's council.

I am something to look forward to, My Pharaoh.

I feel Pharaoh look at my face, a pallet.
On a sudden urge, my head inclines to him.
A smile.
Queen Isis possesses me,
She wishes me to lay with Pharaoh.

Snakes doze in the sun.
One watches me and slithers its tongue.
It suddenly glides toward me,
Coiling itself around my feet.
A sign.
Isis entwines my fate to Egypt.

The Pharaoh is powerless against the will of Isis.
__________________________________

I am immortally etched in amethyst and turquoise.

Review: Open By Andre Agassi

"Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."

-Excerpt pp. 298-299

I grew up with Andre Agassi. He was and still is, my mother's favorite tennis player.
I remember going on summer vacation with my family. Our beach weeks always coincided with The Championships Wimbledon. The only time my mom would leave the beach during the day was when Andre was on TV.
This is how I remember him most. Me, a little kid, watching this bald guy move the other guy across the net back and forth. I had to ask what all this thirty-love-deuce stuff was all about, but this is how I learned about the game. I learned from Andre. I knew when my mom shouted, "Go, Andre, GO!" that he was winning, that he was punishing the opponent.

What I didn't know was his struggle with tennis. I only witnessed his rebirth in the sport, better yet his re-commitment to it. No one in the media or his fan base ever knew the real Andre Agassi, at least not until Open.

At first, the only storyline reported was his flirtation with crystal meth and his subsequent lie to the ATP. People who have admired Agassi all their lives and modeled their tennis after him, publicly berated him for it.

"It's tainted his career."
"It's terrible for tennis and it's fans."
"Every win in 1997 should be forfeited along with prize money."
"Why would he now admit this lie?"

The likes of Roger Federer, Rafael Nadal, Marat Safin, and Martina Navratilova have all "lost respect" for the sportsman in Agassi.

What I want to know, truthfully, is how many of those naysayers read the entire book, read the words: the soul of Andre Agassi?

When I reached "the chapter," I knew Agassi had no idea what he was doing, only that he wanted an escape. His marriage is unhealthy, his tennis is struggling, and his family is suffering. He wants an end to the pain but he doesn't want to face it. He hits rock bottom because all the warring fractions inside of him have now caught up: the dragon and his father, perfection, winning and losing, hating tennis but having nothing else to do.

We've witnessed athletes falling from grace. Recently, Mark McGwire and Tiger Woods. In the past, MJ and O.J..

When athletes aren't happy with themselves, they fall. Athletes are human, they are just like us. They can turn toward drugs that offer relief from pain (or to buff up the body) among other recreational activities. They make unhealthy choices because they're so blinded by their suffering.

Everyone has points in their life where they withdraw from the world, even themselves, because it's easier to run and hide from the reflection in the mirror.

Andre did just that. His life, up until '97, was held together in a delicate balance. Always with a chip on his shoulder and hatred, he hit the wall. He needs control but is too afraid to take it.

He only makes it out of the bottom from wanting change, from facing demons, from finding new inspiration.

Mandela.

"No matter where you are in life, there is always more journeying ahead."

Andre finds inspiration in caring and educating others. His school becomes his motivation for playing tennis. It even helps him become quite fond of the sport he hates decisively.

The second storyline: Pete Sampras. He's hurt by the remarks reported in Andre's book and wants to have a sit-down chat, man-to-man, about them. It's also reported, Pete hasn't read the book. I'm sure if this sit-down chat ever comes to fruition, it's sure to be like one of their tennis matches: epic, thrilling, dangerous.

The problem dear, Petey, is you neglected to read the book before getting all emotional and making public statements.

Andre and Pete. Pete and Andre. Synonymous with one another. Andre (and Pete) know, if it weren't for Pete, Andre would've won more. But there is respect to the highest degree.
When Pete had food poisoning before a match, instead of playing on time, Andre agreed to postpone it. Andre lost.

Andre takes Pete to the musical Grease to watch Brooke. His description:

"I like Broadway. I find the ethos of the theater familiar. The work of a Broadway actor is physical, strenuous, demanding, and the nightly pressure is intense...If they don't give their best, they know it, and if they don't know it, the crowd lets them know it.
All this is lost on Pete, however. From the opening number he's yawning, fidgeting, checking his watch. He doesn't like the theater, and he doesn't get actors, since he's never pretended anything in his life."

Pete is Andre's antithesis. Sturdy, dependable, dull, robotic.

"There's so much I'd like to ask him- about how he stays so focused, about whether or not he regrets devoting so much of his life to tennis. Our different personalities, our ongoing rivalry, precludes such intimacy. I realize that despite the effect we've had on each other, despite our quasi-friendship, we're strangers, and may always be. I wish him the best, and I mean it."

Andre knows Pete is a man he could never be, and there were times he wished he could be. He knows without Pete, there would be no Andre or there would be an Andre but without a fueled, competitive nemesis.

Maybe what Pete really wants to ask him is why he wrote in the book about tipping the valet boy only a dollar when he has millions. Maybe he's embarrassed. Sure keeps a lock on his dirty laundry.

The third storyline: Andre's just trying to sell books. It's not him being honest. He doesn't hate tennis, he's only making a story.

I've come to realize, Andre Agassi is one of the most misunderstood sportsmen of all time.

When he first started, Andre was "the punk," with jean shorts, Mohawk, and earring.

Image Is Everything. The slogan sportswriters likened to his inner being, his philosophy and religion. They called him an empty image for a line in a commercial. They treat him as a rebel, a kid who doesn't have what it takes.

When in reality, it's a premature balding kid who worries more about his hairpiece staying on during the French Open final and making his own choices about his life, than what image he projects. In fact, he can't really believe that people would want to put on wigs and bright shirts to be like him.

He says,

"Transformation is change from one thing to another, but I started as nothing. I didn't transform, I formed. When I broke into tennis, I was like most kids: I didn't know who I was, and I rebelled at being told by older people. I think older people make this mistake all the time with younger people, treating them as finished products when in fact they're in process...I didn't alter my image, I discovered it. I didn't change my mind. I opened it."

All throughout his career, Andre was doubted. Doubted he could win eight majors, the career slam and the gold medal (the only player to ever do so) and give millions of his own money to his academy for children.

For a man just selling novels, I'm sure he'll give most of what he makes to his academy, to helping others because that's what is most important to him, the real him.

He gives back more than you, so don't be brass enough to say he's a cocky bastard wanting more for himself.



Open is by far the best autobiography I have ever read.

Andre is pure.

It's honest. It's deep, powerful, and an inspiration.

He has been utterly selfless in sharing his story, his life. The confusion and pain in being a child forced to do what he hates. The young pro making all the mistakes on the court, off it, in love, in relationships, and in image. The pit of 1997. The turning point. Starting over. The re-commitment to the game and finding love in it. The elder statesman, the ambassador, that everyone looks up to and feels is the realest person in sports.

Andre Agassi is as charismatic, charming, and hilarious as I've ever witnessed in an athlete.

He is raw. Unfinished. Imperfect.

He has helped me love tennis.

"The scoreboard said I lost today, but what the scoreboard doesn't say is what it is I have found. Over the last twenty-one years I have found loyalty: You have pulled for me on the court, and also in life. I have found inspiration: You have willed me to success, sometimes even in my lowest moments. And I have found generosity: You have given me your shoulders to stand on, to reach for my dreams- dreams I could have never reached without you. Over the last twenty-one years I have found you, and I will take you and the memory of you with me for the rest of my life."

-Andre's farewell speech at the 2006 U.S. Open.

It's giving back to his fans. It's a note to all those who've helped him on his path and all those who didn't. It's a note to himself on his goals to keep moving, living.

He's determined, even in retirement, to make a difference.

I think what is most important about Open is how Andre has helped me put words to the pains of growing up and forming an identity.

"Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself.
I never knew this was an acceptable point of view. Now I steer by it. Now it's my North Star. And that's what I'll tell the students. Life is a tennis match between polar opposites. Winning and losing, love and hate, open and closed. It helps to recognize that painful fact early. Then recognize the polar opposites within yourself, and if you can't embrace them, or reconcile them, at least accept them and move on. The only thing you cannot do is ignore them.
What other message could I hope to deliver? What other message could they expect from a ninth-grade dropout whose proudest accomplishment is his school?"

For the sportswriters and athletes and fans who doubt the sincerity of Andre's book, I shall say this, and only this on the matter:

Andre Agassi is more Open than you or I will ever be.

Religious Conviction

Or distrust, as it were.

God. Gods. A God.

El. El Shaddai. Elohim. Adonai.
Hera. Hermes. Demeter.
Amun. Ra. Isis. Osiris. Bast.
Vishnu. Shiva. Lalita. Rama.
Allah. Tanri. Khoda.
Jehovah. Yeshua. Despotes.
Zeus. Apollo. Aphrodite. Ares. Athena.
Jesus. The Holy Trinity. Yahweh.

A Mist. A Shroud. A Veil.

Unknown.

Simply Being.



I mistrust religion. It is an institution that in many ways controls a lot of people. Which ever religion you come from, sit back and think about it.

Think about those people who live and die by what your religious doctrine says. Those who worship and feel punishment based on bad deeds. Those who think every horrible event in this world is God's wrath.

You, yourself, might be among those people.

I don't disrespect you but never will I agree with you.

Nowadays, religion is a strategic ploy to control people. Example: the Christian faith.

How many different fractions of Christianity are there? How many different translations are there of the Bible?

Simple answer: too many to count.

People like to create their own beliefs of religion and change the good book for their own purposes.

A God's purpose is not to be divided but to love and be fulfilled.

This independence from the true roots of religions into separate entities has created more divisions than ever should have come from a belief system.

People have started wars over religion. Over forcing entire peoples to believe this "one right religion." Over seeking control over land, resources and human laborers.

Tell me this isn't true. Tell me religion hasn't been corrupted many times over.

The purity is long lost.
The belief has long been tainted.
The trust has forever diminished.

In this bleak outlook on religion, I must be an atheist, correct?

No.

On my good days, I am simply a Christian. A believer in God and his relationships. He died for me and therefore expects nothing of me but to love him and love all others. I don't need to attend church or read the Bible to hear my weekly gospels. I am a child of God. He expects me to sin and to ask for forgiveness and continue living. He is the light and gospel within.

(I've never put my convictions of my faith that loud in writing or in voice...what a step. I guess. Chances are those feelings will change).

On other days, I believe in "A God" or a being or a cosmic force that is more powerful than anything else. I find comfort in knowing something is around us but distrust in what it actually is.

And still there are times I'd like to be a follower of Judaism, of Islam, of Hindu, of Buddha. I am educated on many beliefs, but I'd like more. I'd like to drown myself in texts and soak up the information like a sponge.

I'd like to wallow in the confusion and all the unknowns. I'd like to compare the creation stories and the likenesses of "God(s)" in all religions.

I'd like to become a wanderer. A person believing in nothing and in everything.

I may be blasphemous or a heretic but I am a believer in simplicity, in relationships, in love.

And I believe that is what religious institutions have lost and squandered on money and power.

Stigma of Poop

*Note* If your one of those people, male or female, who can't stand it when people mention poop, then don't read ahead. Just know, though, this is about you.



This past weekend I had one of my famous getaways out of the stix and into the city to be with my best friends. We always go out, hang out, do whatever and somewhere along those lines, poop always comes up. Probably because my two best guy friends like to pick on my best girl friend.

She hears poop and goes "EWWWWWW." You know, the "OMG-you're-disgusting-how-could-you-say-that" type of EW.

What about me you say? Well, I literally don't give a crap.

More context: We were eating a late lunch (and I mean late as in my stomach was eating itself) at Bob Evans. One of the guys said poop and instantly the other was off and running. One of those superhero tag team pairs. My girl friend started her rant of stops and the guys kept running.

They asked her, "Why won't you say poop?"

"It's gross."

They look at me and I smile and say, "Poop."

The boys' response, "Wow, you said POOP."

They thought it was amazing. Girls don't say poop. They might not even poop.

It's amazing that there could possibly be either a phobia or a stigma with saying poop or pooping.

Girls think it's gross yet they poop. Guys love it (cause it makes them feel so good).

Case and point. My girl friend, like a lot of my girl friends, think talking about going number two is appalling and disgusting. They think not mentioning the subject ever will make it seem like, as females, we don't poop and are incapable of pooping. We will be more ladylike in the long run without the devilish word.

My guy friends love to say after a stomach gorging, "I have to poop," or after walking out of the bathroom, "Don't go in there," with a wink and a smile. Pooping for guys is in itself an accomplishment. I've heard discussions about "turd sizes" and wanting to take a picture of a "precious poop." They're more manly for it. It's expected to be a conversation topic.

Now of course both sides have there exceptions. Girls who discuss poop are oftentimes looked at negatively by fellow gals and guys think them more as a guy. This is mostly the same for guys with poop phobia.

It's natural. We all do it. It's for the purpose of our digestive systems (and possibly to teach us what not to eat). We have to poop.

If we acknowledge babies' pooping (wayyy more disgusting-like a bad smelling A-bomb), why is there such a qualm about talking about "grown-up" poop?

Can it be disgusting? Yes. I don't recommend discussing that.

But what's the problem in saying poop?

It keeps me healthy and able to eat more. I have no problems with poop.

So put an end to the word stigma and admit it...

EVERYBODY POOPS.

Toxic Fan Base

Baltimore Colts. Indianapolis Colts. Baltimore Ravens.

TOXIC.

I've lived in Maryland my entire life.

My team is the Indianapolis Colts. My second team is the Baltimore Ravens.

See how this gets tricky?

Up until age 14 or 15, I had never heard of the Baltimore Colts leaving its home in the middle of a winter night in 1984 and uprooting an entire fan base of Johnny U and the wonder years.
They were bitter, understandably so. Their sports legacy was taken away and replaced in Indy.

But after all these years and the founding of the Ravens and all their success (see Ray Lewis' defense and the Super Bowl XXXV title), the fans who were around when the Colts left still hold the grudge and wish nothing but ill-will to Indy.

I can understand not liking Indy but why is there hatred? I guess I'm apart of the new-generation fan and I don't quite get or care about old loyalties.

I am an Indy fan because of Peyton Manning. Peyton went to UofTennessee which is my favorite college team because my step-father went to law school there and it has stuck to me. I followed Peyton to the NFL and found the Indy Colts to be an organization that runs itself the right way and conducts itself as a professional business. I respect that and I respect what their athletes do on and off the field (minus the Marvin Harrison fallout). I am not a fair-weather fan and I am not a "Raven-hater."

Actually, I feel horrible living in Maryland and loving the Ravens when I love the Colts more. I give the Ravens as much respect as I do the Colts because they also run their organization professionally and demand their athletes to be not only the best but also competitors. They have the defense of the decade, in my opinion, and that doesn't come without hard work and dedication.

That's why this weekend with the AFC Divisional game, I'm torn. I love the Colts and I love the Ravens. It's utter blasphemy living in Maryland. I want them both to win and to go to the Superbowl, but I can't have it that way.

Ultimately, I want the Colts to win but I won't be shocked if the Ravens hand it to them.

I think both teams are past the Colts leaving Baltimore. They are new-age athletes, where let's face it, these indiscretions aren't as important as they used to be. They are hungry for competition and winning the game, no matter who it's against. Having extra motivation because of the opponent and their combined pasts has nothing to do with it.

All I know is older fans hate the colts and hate me when I wear my Colts jersey in their presence.

Even my grandma says the Indy Colts aren't in the right place. She is a Baltimore Colts fan and it still sits uneasy in her stomach how the fallout went. She will go Ravens every time against the Colts. Every time.

I, on the other hand, want success for both. It is possible to be fans of both organizations and athletes.

I just wish it could be without all the toxicity. Without the hatred. The anger.

Baltimore fans, just remember this: Johnny U and the best NFL game ever will always, ALWAYS, belong to you, to us. Indy can never claim it as its own.

Besides, Indy has a one Peyton Manning for its own right.

So let's at least let bygones be bygones and let's relish in the competition this weekend.