i would have posted a cat blog today, except that Brian forgot to upload the photos that are in his camera. and as i’ve already bitched about before, our regular fucking digital camera is broken.
in other news, since this no longer seems to be a spoiler, especially if you’re been reading or at least keeping up with the new Star Wars novel series entitled Legacy of the Force, Jacen Solo, son of Han and Leia, is going to be the next Sith Lord. there’s a contest going on for readers/fans to name what Jacen’s Darth moniker will be. i already entered mine, and i’m not telling. you have until November 30 to enter.
after that, a bunch of Star Wars bigwigs will pick five of their favorites. then fans will have between January 23 through February 27, 2007 to vote for the one they like best. if they pick your selection, you’ll get an acknowledgement in the book in which Jacen’s transformation to Sithdom is complete. personally, if they pick mine, i’d still rather have Darth Vader’s helmet painted onto my goalie mask than an acknowledgment. well, ok, i’d take both.
anyway, got a name in mind? well, click here and enter it. you do have to be signed in to starwars.com to enter the contest, but it’s free. or, click on the icon in my sidebar that kinda looks like a Darth Who? sweatshirt. haha. that amuses me.
i found the link to this sign generator at SourAaron. want to make your own Dummies book? click the link below:
Online Image Creators
i never blog about political topics because this is a personal blog. besides, i’m not all that interested in politics anyway. this current issue over criminalizing illegal immigrants coming into or already in our country is political, yes, but also a personal topic for me. it’s been very much on my mind because it’s been all over the news.
first of all, to criminalize something that’s illegal is redundant. if something is illegal, then it’s already against the law, isn’t it? if you break the law, you’re already a criminal! a local politician i saw on the news (can’t remember her name, or it might have been Luis Gutierrez) said that illegal immigrants just want what’s available to all Americans. um, excuse me? if they’re here illegally, then they’re not American!!!
the reason this bothers me so much is because i was an immigrant–a LEGAL immigrant–and so were my parents. we arrived in this country through LEGAL means. my parents worked hard to be able to move to the United States of America, and worked just as hard to get to where they are today socio-economically.
there are many, many people in our country (we’re now naturalized American citizens) who have the same story that we do. making concessions to immigrants who arrive here illegally trivializes everything that legal immigrants have worked for, the lives we’ve made for ourselves in our adopted country. since when are shortcuts available to the American dream?
it’s all true. i also can’t believe that he didn’t stop me, but he didn’t. though i was high, i know and remember that i definitely hit him. i had run my car into other things, also at about 5mph or less: a sapling in a friend’s front yard; various poles, because i once had difficulty backing out of parking spaces adjacent to poles.
i still remember how it felt against those hard, solid objects, but not as clearly as i remember hitting a human being. it’s something that i can’t forget because it impact felt different.
and didn’t i say that most people have a similar story? it’s not that uncommon, and it’s not that unbelievable. the only embellishment is the very end, where i passed Wendy the pipe when she got in the car. in actuality, maybe i did, maybe i didn’t. i don’t remember, but it sounds like something i would have done–be stupid enough to not only drive around stoned, but have the dope on me as well. i don’t think Frey had to “cinematize” (which is how The Smoking Gun describes it) his own drunk/high-hitting-someone/something-with-your-car story and still make it believable.
in the summer of 1989, i lived in Texas and had just completed my first (and what turned out to be my last) 2 semesters at the University of Houston. because i lived in an apartment instead of the dorms, i had difficulty making friends, especially since i was shy. at the end of spring semester, i found a job as an admin at a small telemarketing company. i also moved in with a high school friend who was originally from Houston and had just moved back from Chicago. between these two events, i finally had a circle of friends, and although we were different in very many ways, we had one thing in common: we were big-time stoners.
as a favor for my friend Jim, i agreed to pick up his girlfriend one afternoon in downtown Houston, where she worked at the Enron Building on 1400 Smith. i was nervous because i didn’t know my way around the downtown area, it was rush hour, and i was completely baked. the sunshine reflected from the many glass buildings towering over me only added to my confusion.
i crept around the block of one-way streets looking for Wendy, who was waiting for me in front of the building. a policeman stood on the street, just outside the entrance to a parking garage on my left. as i approached him, he gestured for me to continue forward. or so i thought. well, i did exactly that–kept on going and ended up running into him.
my dad once told me that he didn’t care what i did as long as i didn’t get caught. however, if i ended up in jail, he wasn’t going to bail me out. this was going to be the first time, i was sure. not only was i stoned out of my mind, i hit a cop with my car! and not a cop sitting in a squad car–it was a cop standing on his own two feet on the street!
i was only 19 years old. my life would be ruined. my parents would be disgraced, not only within their Filipino-American community, but within the entire Natividad clan as well. i had been the family black sheep since my pre-teenage years, and now, i had cemented my destiny as the Natividads’ least wanted.
to my relief, the policeman didn’t crumple to the ground. i wasn’t driving fast, maybe 5 miles an hour, probably less. he merely lost his balance. once he regained it, he gestured for me to continue forward, and this time he exaggerated his arm motions, so there was no mistaking what he wanted me to do. he didn’t ask to see my drivers license. he didn’t order me out of the car. he didn’t even say anything to me through my wide-open window as i drove past him.
seconds later, Wendy was sitting beside me. as soon as she shut the door, we rolled away. and i passed her my pipe.
i’ve shared this anecdote for a number of reasons. first, i’ve been kicking around the idea of a new category relating moments from my past so readers can get to know me better. that category is called “Back in the Day.” some of the posts that will fall into this category may be mundane, while others, like this one, are almost difficult to believe.second, i was inspired to share this story after reading an article to which
Gladys from
The Story of Why provided a link in a
recent post. the article, entitled
“A Million Little Lies”, was published on January 8, 2006, on
The Smoking Gun (TSG), and exposes
James Frey, author of the bestselling memoir and Oprah’s Book Club selection,
A Million Little Pieces, as a fraudulent writer. TSG states that the book’s turning point is an incident during which Frey, drunk and high on crack, writes that he unintentionally drove onto a sidewalk and hit a foot patrol officer with his car.
this episode, as Frey describes in his memoir, ensues into an altercation involving himself, the patrolman, back-up officers, and 30 people who witnessed the police beating him with billy clubs for refusing arrest. (i’m not going to discuss how or why this event is crucial within the memoir’s structure because that isn’t my point here.) according to the police report TSG located, what actually happened was that Frey drove onto a sidewalk on which there was indeed, a policeman, but nearly hit a pole, not the officer. that incident, the factual or the fictitious version–it doesn’t matter–provided me with the spark to write my own hitting-a-cop-on-foot-with-my-car-while-fucked-up story. i mean, every former substance abuser has one. right?
ironically, i was going to name the “Back in the Day” category “True Stories.”
so, do you really believe i hit a cop with my car while i was fucked up?
i don’t write about sports much because i don’t keep up with it as much as i used to. but it’s my duty as a Chicagoan to post that the Bears beat the Packers at Soldier Field for the first time in 12 years! not only that, it’s their 8th straight win! go Bears! (see article below for more)
however, i will say that’s it’s really weird to be rooting for Kyle Orton because we saw a couple of Ohio State - Purdue games, one of which we are at, and rooted against the guy.
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but that’s because we live on the northwest side, and the White Sox are on the south side. if the Cubs were going to the World Series, you better believe that fireworks would be going off, people would be honking their horns, and so on.
i don’t know why everyone’s so awed by the JetBlue landing (see article below). it’s great that the crew and passengers made it, but give me a break. before this story, how many people had even heard of JetBlue? there is no way in the world i’d go anywhere–even to say, Milwaukee–on an airline i never knew existed just to save a few bucks. fuck that. you get what you pay for.
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my biggest fear is coming home to find our apartment building on fire. i would be a complete wreck until i knew for certain that the cats were ok. even though we have one of those emergency stickers on the doors that notifies rescuers that there are pets in the apartment, you just never know.
i can’t imagine what it would be like to live through a hurricane and not have the chance to evacuate the kitties. some people might say, "they’re just animals. there are kids out there separated from their parents," and that’s fine. but more and more, pets are considered part of the family, too.
it’s been a long time since i’ve done any sort of volunteering. i don’t think i’m reliable enough to be where i’m supposed to when i’m supposed to be there right now. but i can certainly donate to the ASPCA’s Disaster Relief Fund.
the site includes news and information about rebuilding shelters, animals that have been rescued, and volunteer services. there are steps to take to prepare for an emergency, outlined on the site. if this is something that interests you, check out the link above.
