Manifest Destiny

No.....I'm not going to blog about the concept or history of Manifest Destiny. This blog/journal entry is actually very personal as I've been actively increasing the archives under the "Preaching To The Choir Boy" section of my blog. This section basically details parables about my life, and I have a few on my mind right now that are extremely important that I absolutely had to write about. So, this summer I've been working for this program called College Summit. While the program's main objective is to assist rising high school seniors complete their college application in a four day workshop, the program also seeks to help returning alumni, like myself, with personal growth and development. One exercise that we did that I really appreciated was an activity that entailed for an individual to envision where they wanted to be 35 years from now. We had to write that down. Next, we were supposed to think about an award that we would receive at that particular time for something we had done during or through the course of our lives. Upon figuring out what that was, we were asked to take some time and prepare the speech that would introduce us as the awardee. We had to also state who was presenting the award to us, where it would be presented, and who would be in attendance. So we did it and I was very moved by some of the thoughts of my fellow staff members. One of my supervisors had actually envisioned himself receiving a bunch of plant seeds and a 'thank you' card from a third grade class that he bought a camera for. One my other fellow staff members envisioned herself winning the Pulitzer Prize for a heralded novel she had written, while another wrote that she had won the Nobel Peace Prize. Another one of my fellow staff members pictured herself being presented with an award by a homeless man, which I found moving. I thought this exercise put my aspirations in perspective for me. So I figured I'd share it on my blog and if and when I get to where I want to be, I can look back, read this, and see if I accomplished what I had envisaged for myself.

So, I wrote that I would be receiving the Lifetime Achievement Award at the Omaha Community Playhouse Theater located in Omaha, Nebraska. The award would be presented by one of my best, if not my best, friend Garret Smith; a prominent independent filmmaker. In attendance would be family, friends and colleagues. The speech orated by Garret would go as follows:

"Good evening ladies and gentleman. I'd like to welcome you here at the Omaha Community Playhouse Theater for the 41st annual, Lifetime Achievement Award Banquet. We are here to celebrate and honor an extraordinary man. I have been in the presence of this person for so many years, that I wouldn't know where to begin as I attempt to acknowledge him this evening. But I guess I'll just have to start by acknowledging the breadth of his art and the body of work that he has championed, created, authored, produced, and filmed throughout his life. If I were going to talk about his work, I would have to start by mentioning one of his pinnacles. This man provided an over-flowing amount of inspiration to aspiring independent filmmakers of color when he was chosen by some of the most critical cinephiles in this world as the first African American director to win the Grand Prize at the annual Cannes Film Festival in Cannes, France. Being the first to do something means a heck of a lot in a world where its arduous to even come in fifth place in anything art-related. That accomplishment serves as a testament to his transcendent body of work in cinema. Although passionate and always bursting with ideas, he was able to open his mind and create films that were appealing to all demographics. He exemplified this in many works. Whether it was the sundry political and philosophical ideas given to us in the tear-inducing, poetry and controversy laden film, The S-Word, or the profound nexus created between the brutal past of our African ancestors and the self-destructive themes of contemporary Afro-American culture through a science-fiction thespian-like story in Outta Time, or whether is was the scintillating story that combined the fierce competition of basketball and the melo-dramatic story of two kindred twin brothers turned adversaries by their rival universities, paternal abandonment, drugs, personal strife, and ever-fading relatoinship in Get Live; this man gave us art.

But that same art that he blessed us with was supplemented with a bevy of culture. He distinguished himself as a premiere film auteur when he juxtaposed different genres of music and incorporated them into his films such as combining the likes of Terence Blanchard, Digable Planets, Loreena McKennit, Antonín Dvořák, The Five Heartbeats, and Diplo all in one film. He filmed in many different parts of the world including Cairo, Sao Paulo, Okinawa, and Dubai. He casted an eclectic group of actors, whether they were distinguished by race, gender, orientation or their indigenousness with every film that he was a part of, which only attests that he was committed to giving us culture. He aimed to use his medium of film to not only entertain, but to teach and enlighten with a genuine concern for the minds of his audience. While writing 9, producing 21, and directing over 30 films, this man has now entered into the pantheon of cinematic immortality. He has been the author of a New York Times bestseller five times and is one of the few and rare world-renowned writers who primary occupation is filmmaking. He embodies what it truly means to be an artist. And even if he had not been accruing the amount of money he did over the course of his film career, I am infinitely confident that he would continue creating his art because the sincerity of his passion for film is second to none. But this celebration of his life does not begin and end with what he called his job and what we called a blessing.

We are also here to celebrate one of the most giving human beings that has ever inhabited this Earth. Not only has his endless philanthropic efforts to help support the many decadent and destitute people in this world, but his genuine passion for service to those less fortunate or simply in need is unprecedented. This young black brother who understood his humble beginnings in the socio-economic taxing area of Brooklyn, New York has grown into a man that cannot seem to comprehend selfishness. His valiant efforts to help those who cannot help themselves has been documented for the past 45 years. However, his service to society is not only defined by his generous financial contributions. He has also committed himself to uplifting and raising the consciousness of those around him in an effort to achieve human solidarity. Undoubtedly, he deserves this honorary award because he has not only given his money and thoughts, but he has also offered and given himself.

Since this award is donned, the 'Lifetime Achievement Award', I'd also like to commend him for achieving something that couldn't fall short of amazing. All his life, he had promised that he would do this and he has. I'd like to commend this man for helping to open the Winston Stewart School of Film, Television and Radio at his alma mater, The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, whom he named after his late grandfather, Winston Stewart the first. And I must say, this man is truly Tar Heel Bred. Seldom will you see him without that Carolina Blue. (laughs) I would also like to celebrate this man as he has moved into the next stage of his life as a loving father and husband raising his two fraternal twin children, Annaya and Kuamel Jr. I have the utmost confidence that because of his personhood, congeniality, sensitive, and sincere nature that he will not only continue to succeed in marriage, but he will excel in parenthood. I wish you and your family nothing but blessings. And without further ado, I'd like to bring to the stage the honorary awardee of this Lifetime Achievement Award, yours and my friend, Mr. Kuamel Stewart...


Parting Thoughts:
So, I said in the preface of this blog entry that I had undergone a lot of personal growth this summer and there's one that I would like to expound upon right now. I stated that my envisioned 'Lifetime Achievement Award' would be presented by a man named Garret Smith. I have to acknowledge this brother. I just met him actually about a week ago at my College Summit workshop. He's a like-minded individual who is also passionate about film and shares similar aspirations with myself. I swear we're of the same ilk. While kickin' it with him over the week, bouncing film ideas back and forth and even indulging in some philosophical debate, we had sat down and had a conversation that might of changed my life. I've been harping about this "make a difference" thing for the past few months and never did I ever really think and consider what it was actually doing to me. In all my passion and self-confidence, I actually humbled myself to the words of Garret and he was able to give me some of the most critical feedback that I've ever heard.

Speaking to him made me realize that the person I was becoming, in all my investment in raising my own cognition about the world, I was becoming more socially inept than socially conscious. While that I had thought the plethora of information I was learning was making me more layered, it was actually making me more shallow. Last year, I condemned any and everyone who I saw did not have the same passion and investment in certain things that I had. And that completely made me a monolithic person. While I thought reading all these books and listening to different music was distinguishing me from others my age or part of this generation, it was only contributing the myopic view I had of people. I was so concerned with becoming this fountain of knowledge and consciousness that I didn't respect the ideas and perspectives of other people. If I didn't see the same passion in them that I had in myself, I would dismiss them completely. But just because someone doesn't show the same amount of interest in the things that I passionately care about should not disqualify them from my thoughts, company and conversation. Who am I to say they aren't worth my time because I was judging them because they didn't deeply care about what I cared about? I may have missed an opportunity of creating some great friendships because I was too immersed in an agenda that was leaving me all alone. When I was in high school, I was really humorous and I never had a problem with being overly-facetious. But when I got to college, I became so serious that I nearly lost that part of my personality and I never really realized that.

Consciousness and pabulum isn't all there is in the world, and it shouldn't be all there is to me. People who are solely esoteric get caught up in a world that strips them of their ability to connect with people who aren't as versed. And I was very judgmental last year. I maligned everyone for being ignorant, asinine, and part of the mythical problems that I rambled about redundantly. Garret helped me realize that being that kind of person is exhausting and that if I continued down that path, I would never be the kind of understanding and gregarious human being that I am seeking out to be. So I'm aiming to be more grounded this year and to have more fun. I think that if I can seek to hone my mind into a creative, philosophical, political, and theoretical machine, then I should also be able to hone my character into a sociable, affable and understanding one that is able to interact with everyone. After all, those are the people who are truly loved and embraced by everybody. I want to acknowledge the Oakland native, my brother Garret for helping me realize that. Never would I have thought someone my own age would give me such important words of wisdom that may have profoundly changed me. Thank You.

Parting Thoughts Part 2:
Sometimes eating some humble pie is vital to your personal growth.
I'm leaving for Indiana in about 2 hours.
I'll be spending my birthday in the Hoosier State.
I really should be sleeping right now.
If you've read this blog, wish me a safe flight.
Maybe I'll finish Invisible Man on the plane.
After all, I am going to Chicago first to connect to another flight.
Ugh.

Oh Yeah,
Time Warner, NewsCorp, and The Walt Disney Company runs the United States.
Check it out for yourself.
Peace.

El Loco Locomotive de La Ciudad de Nueva York

Art Form: Writing
Genre/Type: Novel

<---Welcome to his humble abode. So, since I've emigrated to Chapel Hill from Brooklyn for college, I've kind of lost my 'New York City intuition' and I realized that getting back on the train when I got back home. What's funny to me is that you could never really appreciate the breadth of New York City Transit unless you're new to it or have been away from it for a long time. I think the customs of the train system in New York City need some recognition. So I'm dedicating this blog/journal entry to NYC Trains. Before I go on with my spiel, I want to prelude my thoughts with a piece of writing by Ralph Ellison. Right now, albeit in spurts because of other obligations, I've been reading Invisible Man, arguably Ellison's most extolled and celebrated piece of writing. I'm not done with it yet, but so far, I can really say that I appreciate this man's prose. He writes extremely well and I've immersed myself in the story when I've felt like doing so and found time to do so. Here's an excerpt from the novel that pays homage to New York City transit. The pictures in-between the text for the length of the blog entry provide a nexus with Ellison's words, my thoughts and what it may, or does, actually look like.

"...And while I got down my bags, and my prize brief case, still as shiny as the night of the battle royal, he instructed me how to take the subway, then I struggled through the crowd.


Moving into the subway I was pushed along by the milling salt-and-pepper mob, seized in the back by a burly, blue-uniformed attendant about the size of the Supercargo, and crammed, bags and all, into a train that was so crowded that everyone seemed to stand with his head back and his eyes bulging, like chickens frozen at the sound of danger. Then the door banged behind me and I was crushed against a huge woman in black who shook her head and smiled while I stared with horror at a large mole that arouse out of the oily whiteness of her skin like a black mountain sweeping out of a rainwet plain. And all the while I could feel the rubbery softness of her flesh against the length of my body. I could neither turn sideways, nor back away, not set down my bags. I was trapped, so close that simply by nodding my head, I might have brushed her lips with mine.


I wanted desperately to raise my hands to show her that it was against my will. I kept expecting her to scream, until finally the car lurched and I was able to free my left arm. I closed my eyes, holding desperately to my lapel. The car roared and swayed, pressing me hard against her, but when I took a furtive glance around no one was paying me the slightest attention. And even she seemed lost in her own thoughts. The train seemed to plunge downhill now, only to lunge to a stop that shot me out upon a platform feeling like something regurgitated from the belly of a frantic whale. Wrestling with my bags, I swept along with the crowd, up the stairs into the hot street. I didn't care where I was, I would walk the rest of the way."

That particular abstract only alludes to the infamous thronging that takes place on New York City trains and in New York City train stations. Ellison wrote aptly though, because everything he wrote in that experience was (ironically because its a novel) non-fictitious. The subways are seriously crowded and it does get really annoying. I thought what Ellison wrote about the woman and how close he was to the mole on her face isn't too far removed from some of the experiences that I've had. I've been spat on, brushed, nudged, pushed...you name it. You just have to adapt and understand that because of the nature of the train system, people are going to cram. But being caged in by people who are easily compelled to become volatile can be the worst. Getting into a brief, or otherwise lengthy, argument about personal space on a NYC train can be entertaining, comical and really embarrassing.

The train system has other customs though. For example, I'll always remember teenagers who would come on the train with boxes of candy and introduce themselves monotonically by saying, "My name is Tyquan. And my name is Jarrel. And we're not selling candy for no basketball team. We're just trying to find a honest way to make money so we don't have to do it on the streets. Would anyone like to buy some candy? We only have m & m's and starbursts left...."
And I'd always laugh in my head as they sauntered through the train car looking longingly at everyone they passed with their dirty white t-shirts , ripped jeans and brand new Jordans and no one bought candy. Sad...



One of my favorite customs of the train system would have to be the break dancing. Its great when it's spontaneous. When it's not spontaneous, it means that you've seen the same two fools, one old fool with his little brother whose about 4 feet tall, perform the same tricks on the same train because they take the same route everyday. They are chafing. But it can be some good entertainment though. Their boomboxes are always hot. For them to use that little bit of space and do all those flips, hurdles, lunges, cartwheels, and dance moves to Missy Elliot's Lose Control in the middle of the train car is incredible. The dexterity that they have is comparable to Olympic contestants. But they'll never get that kind of recognition, we all know that.



But how about going into the train station and always finding a show, especially in the train epicenters like 42nd street Times Square and Broadway Junction on the A line in Brooklyn. There's always some kind of show that entail the performances by some of the most hustling-savvy geniuses you may ever meet in your life. These guys really know how to turn on a crowd. They are sly, shrewd, and talented. The guys know how to get women involved with clever comments and the women always grab the attention of male passer-by's with eye-popping moves. I'll never forget seeing the midget in Times Square who looked like Michael Jackson, emulated his every move, and made a ridiculous sum of money from 1 minute and 13 seconds into MJ's Thriller. Priceless. Like I said, these people know how to hustle and it is not wise to under-estimate their purview of economics, especially street economics.























One other custom that you'll find in the subway, is that people always go to the furthest part of the platform as possible and look into the tunnel to see if the train is coming.....every three minutes. What's funny about it is, does it matter when it's coming? It's not like by you gawking at the rat and graffiti-infested train tunnel is going to make the train come any faster. Even worse, when people can see the train coming in plain view, they still look deeply into the tunnel to see if its coming. I can't malign those folks though, I'm one of them. It's just part of the culture I guess. Another part of being inside the train car, is what I like to call the "pole competition". The pole competition is a sport where individual passengers compete to see who will get what hand spot on the pole positioned in designated areas in the train car. Certain advantages are determined by height and strength of arm pit smell. Dead serious. If you stink, people will move away from the pole and let you have it. Thus you win. Someone who is small in stature riding the train will always suffer adverse situations because there will always be someone who is about six feet tall hovering over you with their burly arm(s) sitting on top of your head while they're frantically holding onto the pole. It sucks, but that's just the way it is.



One of the more irritating experiences one can have on a NYC train is the "Stand clear of the closing doors" aspect. The time when it totally sucks can be one of two situations. Either the train doors are broken so they repeatedly open and close and you're left standing in front of them angrily because you want them to shut so the train can move because you have to use the bathroom really bad and the paunchy man behind you keeps pushing you further and further into the corner of the area. The other situation is standing in front of the doors and seeing people hastily running down from the nearby station steps to try and catch the train. And while you stand there hoping that those feverish bastards don't make it because you really want to get home after one of the most taxing days of your life, they do make it and the doors have to open and close once again. Or, they actually don't make it but they manage to catch the doors closing with their bare hands and are so persistent about getting on that train that they won't let go until the train conductor re-opens the doors. By this time, 15 minutes have gone by, and you're ready to karate chop everyone who just made it on the train.

A apologize for not having a picture to illustrate this scenario. I guess Google isn't that resourceful. I hope my writing effectively provided the scene.

If you're not a native New Yorker, or haven't been to New York before, I may have thoroughly discouraged you from using the subway system if and when you get here. But I implore you to not be apprehensive when it comes to NYC trains. Its an experience you have to have. Honestly, I didn't appreciate them until I came back on breaks from school. New Yorkers are kind of spoiled with that kind of culture and we do take it for granted. So if you haven't been to the NYC, you better come and take the train because I spent too much time moiling over this blog trying to attest to the train culture that is special here. I'll see you on the A line in Brooklyn. I'll be on Broadway Junction in front of the Filipino woman and her daughter with their big blanket sprawled out across the tiling with about 65 bootlegged DVD's and unpopular mixtapes that has no intrinsic value which they're selling.

Before my parting thoughts, I'd like to end this entry with one last photograph and a song that fits the theme of this entry by my main man Guru. Enjoy.






















Parting Thoughts:
The summer here is not as bad as its been in past years. But I shouldn't speak to soon, it's only July.

And since it's July, that means that my birthday is coming up in a few weeks. The theme of this blog is very timely because I'd like to announce my plans in the short future. I'm going to ask my parents to buy me a Super 8 Millimeter Camera for my birthday. If and when I get it, I'm going to embark on my first film endeavor. I plan on shooting a short documentary on four controversial topics: abortion, the death penalty, euthanasia, and surrogacy. I'll be shooting on different NYC trains throughout the city, candidly interviewing passengers who are willing to participate. I think it'll be extremely interesting and fun. There are always eccentric people on and in the subway and I'm excited about meeting different people with different ideas.

I find it funny that the women who go natural the most with their hair in this country, are white women. Is that technically, conscious for them? I guess that depends on if you believe that wearing your hair the way you were born with it is 'conscious'. I personally like some of the Europeans styles. Ain't nothin' wrong with a perm. Well, maybe there is, sometimes. And I still can't tell the difference between real hair and weave. People have told me its because my mom has long hair. Guess so.

I've been reflecting on my past dealings with women and I've realized certain things in an effort to clear up my search for a good person in the future. I was once with the over-indulged hip hop cultured girl which didn't go well with my maturation process. I've also dealt with puritanical women which I realized probably won't work out in the future because of my staunch heretical beliefs. I definitely have found myself gravitating to those who are grounded and have a subtle benignity about them because it brings me to a comfortable level of communication. Ehh, I could go on about this for days. I'm just anxious to meet a motivated and deeply layered debutante who will compel me to cease defining the word, 'love', as just a fancy noun.

Over and Out.

Oh yeah, Tajai what are we? Masterminds.