Thanksgiving Revelations

How's it hanging, blogosphere? Welcome black to my rants and raves. It's been a long time, and I shouldn't have left you ................. without a dope beat to step to.

How did you all spend your Thanksgiving? Great, okay my turn. So this past week, I returned home to Richmond, VA for the first time in damn near a year, and I was glad to be back to me old stomping grounds. I could see all my old friends, eat mostly home-cooked food, reminisce and catch up with my old high school teachers, and take in a game of the local pro sports team -- all the things that one does when they return home after a long absence.

I did barely any of those things. 

But, that's not to say that I didn't enjoy myself. To the contrary, I had an opportunity to rest, relax, and enjoy time with people I no longer see a lot while enjoying a holiday that encourages the consumption of large amounts of hearty food. I also wanted to hopefully accrue enough noteworthy happenings to relay them onto you, and I'm glad to declare that mission accomplished; here it comes.....

- Once again, HM and I failed to get-together while in the same city. Apparently, the only thing rarer than us even being in the same city is us seeing each other. At this point, I'm not sure she could point me out of a lineup. On the bright side, that means I'm off the hook for stealing her heart a few summers ago when we worked together. 

I promise it's not always this bad

- Generally, when I go home, I like to get my hair cut either before I go back or sometime while I'm there, but I completely disregarded that tradition this time around. This year is the first time that I've willfully participated in No-Shave November, though to be fair, I had basically been having a no-shave fall semester all along anyways. I will say that while there is something that is admittedly very liberating about letting lush forests of hair grow untamed wherever they may, it doesn't work the same way for everyone. I've been all atwitter about that (amongst other things) this weekend, as my hair grows too slowly on my head and my chin to look like a completely different/cooler person like most would, but plenty wildly enough on my sideburns to make me look like a bewildered jackass sometimes; think a facial bikini wax. Image disturbing enough for you? 

- With my parents having moved down to North Carolina -- GO HEELS, FUCK DUKE! -- after my mom took another job down there, it left my younger brother Han Solo(CUP) in residential limbo for a few months. Things were getting sticky for awhile, as he had to find another place to live before the lease on our old house expired, or else risk having to uproot and move to NC with them. Luckily, the mother of my best friend Qui-Gon GIN from middle/high school came through in the clutch and found them a place to move into, which was right next door to her own house. This is where I stayed for the duration of my visit to Richmond. Shout out to my partna'dems for sheltering a brotha for the long, harsh (read: moderate and relatively weather-lenient) winter week. That being said, it it too much for a brotha to ask y'all to keep some food in the house? I can only have sleep for dinner so many times.

- It was good to see my other family members that I've heard from less than my parents and brother since I started college. Let's face it: when we were all living there, it was easy to talk on a regular basis because we all saw each other quite a bit, but now that I only come home 2-3 times a year, our communication is probably good at being restricted to holidays, birthdays, happenstance, or other newsworthy events. Let's not force it here, people; in most places, you can go to jail for forcible, non-consentual contact. 

- On one day, my partner-n-crime from high school Malcshakes dropped by for a little fellowship and conversation that was enlightening for multiple reasons. While I'm not really at liberty to discuss them all, I can shed light on something that that conversation underscored for me; something that became more and more apparent everyday I was home, which is the growing disparity between the ideologies in myself and most people I know, surprisingly even with my friends back home. 

We all got to talking about drinking, which inevitably leads to questions about my own choice to declare myself (mostly) straight-edge. I'm very used to being one of the only (if not THE only) non-drinkers in any given group of people I spend time with, so I field this question a lot. It's not as if I'm an alcohol virgin, but it's rare that I'll be caught drinking something with alcohol in it; it's just not for me. We all got into a fairly spirited debate as to why I feel this way and why they don't. When pressed for a deeper reason, it's always easy to point to family substance abuse history -- the last thing my family needs is more experience there, but even I admit that jumping right to that is a bit of a copout; I'm sure most families can go to that (though that doesn't make the reason any less valid). No, my REAL reason, pretentious as it may sound, is that I take pride in not being susceptible to peer pressure the way I think most people are. I really don't mind talking or joking about it with other people because I'm 99% (never say never!) sure that there's nothing they can say to me to make me change my mind on it. 

Though it came out that way, I didn't mean to exactly insinuate that I'm better than them, but I DID mean to emphasize that I absolutely revel in the fact that I'm comfortably different than most people. At the end of the day, as I told them, I'm always going to feel much better about not falling into that crowd at the imploration of others than I would if I turned around and said "Fuck it, I'll just get drunk too." I think it'll reflect better on me if people are able to see that I didn't just do what everyone my age is expected to do and I held strong to that stand, not caring what those people said. I really don't care even a little bit if people that drink a lot find me to be boring and lame -- as my homegirl recently told me, those that care don't matter and those that matter don't care. 

Another reason is that I'm someone who admittedly suffers from being painfully self-aware at all times. Yes, that is a personal issue that I could stand to lighten up on, but that being said, I see no wrong with always wanting to have control of my facilities in social settings, something that getting drunk doesn't always afford you. I'm always told that it's nice and liberating to not have to worry about that, to just let loose and have a good time, damn the consequences, and I'm sure that's the case sometimes. There have been times -- albeit few and far between -- when I've been able to do that without the help of alcohol and found myself to have a great time. But, that's always been one of my points about alcohol all along -- it's not necessary to have a great time, and if you've gotten to the point that you feel you can't do so without it, then I think it's a bigger issue than most people are willing to admit. I'm not here to lecture about the perils of over-indulgence in alcohol -- we've all heard that song and dance our whole lives. I certainly don't mean to cast dispersions or shame on people who drink; obviously most people that we all know do, and I'm a "live and let live" kinda guy. I've always maintained that drunk people can be some of the most fun to be around (provided they do so in moderation and don't become too whiny or belligerent).  But what I'm saying is that I personally just don't see the appeal and though it might lead to some semblance of a good time more often than not (at least for a little while), I'm honestly fine with just not knowing. We came to the comical conclusion that I was better than them, but they were cooler than me. That'll do, donkey - that'll do. 

- Much on the same note as the last paragraph, I always seem to find myself in situations in which I'm the lone voice on one side of an argument and though I don't mind because I'm somewhat of a loner anyways, it can be frustrating to feel like no one ever really gets you. Case in point: Han Solo(cup), Jar-Jar Drinks (formerly known as 5Deuce4Trey), and I got into a discussion about movies we had recently seen, which led to me declaring that I had to deduct points from "Due Date" because I felt that the events in the movie leading to the climax were a little too farfetched. I'll keep it vague so as not to spoil the movie, but things happened to the characters en route to the hospital that I thought would have stopped the average person from making it on time. Anyways, when I pointed this out, they pointed out that it was silly that I was taking this movie so seriously while dismissing the events of "The Hangover" so easily. My rationale was that in a movie like "The Hangover," you go in understanding that these guys are going to Vegas and that alcohol/drugs could lead to anything crazy happening. In that, you EXPECT crazy shit to go down. In "Due Date," it's presented as if two normal guys can get into various situations that would stop anyone else and STILL manage to drive from ATL in L.A. in 3 days. That time frame isn't unrealistic, but given what transpired on their trip there, I found it a bit harder to believe than most. 

Damn you, Hollywood

But I assure you all that the relative unbelievability of "Due Date" was CHILD'S PLAY compared to that of "Hot Tub Time Machine." Now, going into a movie with a premise that ridiculous, you know you have to suspend your disbelief more than usual. Even if I allow myself to believe that a hot tub could somehow send us back in time, there are things that happen in the movie not predicated on that inane premise that completely jaded my enjoyment of the movie. Yes it was funny, but I certainly don't need to see it again, lest I ruin someone else's experience with my over-analyzation. When I brought this up, they both argued that it was ridiculous to even be having such a discussion because you are supposed to suspend disbelief going into movies anyway, but I don't see why that always has to be the case. For a movie like "X-Men" or "Harry Potter," yes. For movies like "Hot Tub Time Machine" and "Due Date," where these events occur to regular-ass people like me and you? Sorry, no sale. 

Now, I'll be the first person to claim that I think I may be becoming too cynical in my old age to objectively enjoy most movies, but the big picture here is that this was yet another case where I felt like I was arguing on a level all my own. It never ceases to amaze me how people often fixate on minute details that won't allow them to meet me on the same level that I'm on. I'm beginning to feel like Sheldor the Conqueror, with the way that I just always seem to be seeing things in what I think is a bigger light than others. I'm constantly misunderstood in arguments and flying way over everyone's head, I feel. I always assumed that back at my home base with my home friends, it would be different, but even then, it didn't seem much better.

Is it that I'm being too trivial or is it them? It was probably me when we argued the movies, but generally, I feel like people just don't get me. It's amazing how things make perfect sense to me but no one else when I'm on the other end of an argument. I am befuddled at times that there can be such a wide gap between my line of thinking and everyone else's. It's entirely possible that it's just me, but I really don't think that's ALWAYS the case. I just tend to feel as if I'm casting my pearls before swine. Not always, but enough to make me wary of how I dispense those pearls from hence forth. 

Long-winded condescending rant aside, y'all aren't that bad. I have noticed a growing disparity between myself and my friends back home, but variety is the spice of life, right? My homies back home keep me centered and most of the time, I realize that they kick up shit with me just for the sake of playing devil's advocate, which I can appreciate; it keeps me young. I love them no less for it. 

Anyways, it seems that we're all caught up, blogomaniacs. I'm back in CoMo for the stretch run of my senior year, and will need to buckle down more than ever, but don't think I'll love you knuckleheads any less, so you should still stay tuned for further developments. 

Until next time, this is Sir Marcus T. Williams signing off....Yall take care now.  

Hide Yo Kids & Hide Yo Wife: A Retro-Diary of Halloween 2010

What's really good, blogosphere? Sir Marcus here bringing the latest edition of my Rants & Raves. Long time no speak, right? You're damn right it has been, thanks for checking back in with me.

This weekend was Halloween weekend 2010 and I must say, you all are in for a treat today because in my effort to recount the events to you we're going to do something a little different. Instead of the regular logorrhea that I normally serve, I'm gonna go with a kickass retro diary from Saturday, basically walking you through the events of the most noteworthy day of the weekend. Strap those fannies in tight cuz this ride is fitna get bumpy, but we're gonna do this thang; yes we are.

First off though, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that I also had a kick-ass Friday night celebrating Old Hallow's Eve with esteemed members of Team AlphaWolfSquadron (the group consisting of me and some of my former textbook temp coworkers) Chuck Goldenrod and Baby Deer. Even the Old Ball & Chain dropped by for a little while to receive her obligatory butt-whoopin' in Beer Pong from me and BD. Bless her little temp heart, thinking she could beat us; so young, so naive. Anyways, we had a gay old time Friday night and shout out to everyone I met that night; yall are alright by me. 

Saturday, October 30, 1:28 p.m.

Gossip Girl shows up at the crib to whisk us off to a watch party for the Mizzou/Nebraska game, a game that we soon saw would ultimately be decided in the 1st quarter.

First order of business: stop and get some food, as proper houseguest etiquette dictates we should. What do we decide to get, you ask? You are correct -- we DID get the 50-piece McNuggets meal from McDonald's! In a somewhat-related story, the two of us tried to take down one of these behemoths (50 nugs, 2 large fries and 2 large drinks) ourselves last year, thinking we could handle it cuz it wasn't really THAT much food. Shortly thereafter, my apartment at the time got really stuffy until I opened up the windows to let some of the wrong out. Having learned our lesson, this time we were bringing all of that food to hopefully be shared with a group of people. 

1:57 p.m.

Apparently, all of CoMo wanted McD's around that same time, but we finally managed to get outta there and to the apartment of the host of the day's festivities, wReckshop. He and GG have just recently become, ummmm, "friends," but myself and a couple of returning characters that would join us -- Bo Peep and ET -- had known him for awhile. Had no idea this was the new "friend" that GG had been referring to; It's a small world, after all. 

2:15 p.m.

Our motley crew (me, GG, ET, Bo Peep, and wReckshop) are soon joined by a random assortment of other stock characters (talks far too much guy, surprising sports knowledge girl, quiet guy, ribbons girl, etc), and a member of MU's basketball team -- we'll call him More Money, More Problems (or MMMP, for short). 

2:25 p.m. - Sidenote

As we prepare for kickoff, we are all very cognizant of the significance of this upcoming game. As would end up being discussed many times over the course of the next few hours, this game was HUGE for Mizzou. While last week's win and subsequent awesome field-storming against Oklahoma was monumental historically (guess I should have told yall about that one, huh?), it would ultimately mean next to nothing if we lost this game to Nebraska, thus conceding control of the Big 12 North to them. We don't win the Big 12 North, we don't go to the Big 12 title game. We don't go to the Big 12 title game, we don't get a shot at the national title and likely miss out on any other big name bowl game. If we had to lose a game this season, it would have been better to lose to OU than lose to Nebraska. 

2:37 p.m.

The game kicks off. MU receives the ball, but in something that would become a familiar sight during this game, doesn't get to return it because the NU kick results in a touchback. MU ball on the 20. Much less exciting opening kickoff than what we saw last week, but oh well. If we are going to win today, we need to weather the frenzied storm of this crowd and do something positive, starting right now. Also: Talks Too Much Guy's mouth has been going a mile a minute since he arrived. I can tell he probably won't get much time to help out with our mountain of nuggets.

2:44 p.m.

MU's less-than-encouraging first drive results in a punt and maybe two positive yards. Not the start we wanted, but those opening game jitters generally go for both sides, right? As long as MU doesn't shit the bed in these first few minutes, we'll be able to compete today.

2:45 p.m.

We weren't too concerned about punting to them because our defense has been damn good this season. Then on their 2nd play, a poor tackling angle from our defenders ensures that Nebraska RB Roy Helu, Jr. skates 66 yards untouched for the first TD. Talk about your boner killers. 

2:53 p.m.

We're about 5 minutes into game time and MU has run 6 plays for a net total of 1 yard and punts back to Nebraska, whose fans are understandably in a tizzy. Their momentum continues as they quickly move into our red zone on a long pass. We manage to keep them from getting another TD and they settle for a FG from their All-American K. 10-0 Nebraska, but 2 things our group has going for us: 1) MU not allowing a TD once they got inside the 20 keeps them as the leading red-zone defense in the nation and 2) we've finished roughly 70% of the nuggets. 

3:03 p.m.

After the obligatory Nebraska touchback, MU has the ball again and shows signs of life on a 20 yard pass to T.J. Moe. Then our bad offense showed up again and 3 plays later, we are punting again. At least we were consistent in one area. 

3:05 p.m.

Fortunately for us, Nebraska is insisting on throwing the ball instead of running it, which is generally their strength. Unfortunately for us, our CB Carl "Winslow" Gettis did not bring his track shoes to the game today, taking yet another poor angle and getting burnt BADLY on a double move by their TE, who really isn't that fast, but scores a TD anyways. 17-0 Nebraska. Damn you, Carl!

3:12 p.m.

MU gets the ball back and after being granted another 1st down via a Nebraska defensive penalty, manages to earn itself another punt. I've never owned my own car, but even I know what the expression "stuck in neutral" means. 

3:16 p.m.

It is now 24-0 Nebraska after Roy Helu Jr again scores, this time on a 73-yard TD run. He also wasn't touched on this one by any of our defenders. Ballgame. No way in 5 hells that Missouri is surmounting a 24-point 1st quarter deficit in a environment this hostile and deep down, we all knew it. Disappointment and silence abound throughout the room. Even Talks Too Much Guy is stunned into.... still talking.  Okay, so it wasn't TOTAL silence. 

For the next 3 quarters, Missouri actually manages to slightly outplay and outscore Nebraska, but the hole is just too big and we lose our first game, 31-17. I'm not saying that we shat the bed, but they certainly don't make diapers big enough for the mess we made in the 1st quarter. Ultimately, if this goes down as our only loss, then our season is a success, but this was likely the most important game of the year, unfortunately. Oh well, on to the more important part of Saturday....

10:13 - 10:30 p.m.

Most of the gang

After taking a couple of hours to retire to our separate quarters and recharge our batteries, GG is back to pick me up and me, her, ET, and wReckshop head downtown to Shiloh's to see what they have to offer. Meeting us down there would be Bo Peep and her roommate Ms. Peacock, as well as GG's roommate Mollywhop. I went as Antoine Dodson of "Hide yo' kids, Hide yo' Wife" fame, GG went as Snooki from that awful show about guidos that everyone but me seems to enjoy, wReckshop went as random guy that punched Snooki (I loved the clever simplicity of this), ET went as a "Naughty or Nice" Christmas girl, Bo Peep went as Rachel Green from "Friends," and Ms. Peacock earned her name because she went that way. Get it? Got it? Good.

10:50ish p.m.
I should note that we went to Shiloh's because A) as expected, on our way there, we saw everyone and their mama tryna pack into Fieldhouse, which was our usual summer stomping grounds before I became a social hermit, and B) because we were given to understand that Shiloh's had no cover charge. Well, they ended up having one after all, but it didn't matter because we saw that we at least wouldn't have a tough time getting served or getting a table. It was far from packed, but there were just enough people there that we didn't feel like the social pariahs of the downtown CoMo Halloween scene. That's all we could really ask.

10:55ish p.m
Everybody now has their drinks and I have my Mountain Dew; time to park asses in seats and check out the scenery. Some of the notable costumes around the bar: A group of guys dressed as the recently-freed Chilean miners (too soon, you say? Well that's VERY insensitive to the creative genius of those guys. I certainly salute them), a former classmate of mine teased her hair out and came as a shockingly accurate depiction of Garth from Wayne's World, and, perhaps the best costume outside of our group, a girl dressed as Dora the Explorer. Even we had to admit that this girl was rockin' the shit outta her backpack.  Too bad I had the "Best Minority" costume on LOCK.

11:15ish p.m.

Peep the face. 

Bo Peep and I had spent most of the game earlier synchronizing a series of hand/facial gestures and by this point, we were well on our way to putting them to good use. You don't believe me? Check the facebook pictures, Doubting Thomas.

(SIDEBAR: I'm graduating this semester and though I'll still be around CoMo for awhile, Bo Peep is moving to Iowa City for her final semester to take part in an internship, meaning our good times together are coming to a close sooner than preferred. Saddest of faces. I'm gonna miss this girl to fuckin death, and you can run and tell THAT, homeboy.)


11:37 p.m.

Mid rug-cutting

I love people watching as much as the next guy, but we had all come there with a move, and we fully intended on busting it. With the likes of "Thriller" and "The Cupid Shuffle" being played, that dance floor never stood a chance. Somebody grab a brotha another Mountain Dew!

12:01 a.m.
Apparently there was a costume contest going on this entire time, but me and my gang of ruffians had no idea, so we were never officially entered. YOU'RE WELCOME, everyone at the bar not sitting at the cool table.

Between 12 and 1 a.m.
Much of the same stuff from earlier, except we would soon be joined by MMMP and TTMG. Also joining us, random less-than-awesome straggler friend (LTASF) of ET and Bo Peep. In an effort to protect their dignity, let's just leave it at that.

1:15ish a.m.
The activity at the bar is dying down, so it's time to mobilize. Everyone in the group except for me, Bo Peep, Ms. Peacock, and LTASF head out to an afterparty at MMMP's house. The rest of us were gonna go home, but got outside and upon realization that Bo Peep had never been to Broadway Diner, we decide we have time for a good old fashioned cherry popping and we walk the 20 feet to the diner.

1:45ish
While waiting on our food, Bo Peep and LTASF go BALLS DEEP into a "Who's the bigger Dave Matthew's Band fan?" debate, one that was contested vehemently for awhile, but the outcome was never seriously in doubt. Bless LTASF's heart - he's as close to Bo Peep in that regard as I've ever seen - but she remains the biggest Dave Matthews Band fan I've ever met.

Where has this girl been all my college life? Also: NIP SLIP.

While they discussed that for what seemed like hours, Ms. Peacock and got time to catch up -- paint each other's nails, fix up each other's hair, etc -- and what not. When food time arrived, she got a chocolate chip pancake that appeared to be swimming in sprinkles. A lesser person would have gone into a diabetic coma after taking one of those bad boys down, but this clearly was not her first picnic, as it never even fazed her. The key, as she put it, was to eat it with butter instead of syrup. After all, it's tough to enjoy a multiple cavity-inducing, dessert-like pancake while worrying about the calories that syrup would bring; I TOTALLY get that.

2:10ish
Her Broadway Diner cherry officially popped, we all pile outta the diner and get ready to head home. Fun Fact: An innocuous comment about his inferior Dave Matthews fandom by Ms. Peacock sends LTASF storming off in a separate direction while we were on the way to the car, presumably out of our lives forever. Damn, that was a shame. He was JUST starting to get less awesome.

2:30ish
Finally home after what is presumably my last college Halloween experience. Sad face yes, but great times had by all. New friends made, new experiences had, new drugs taken - er, pictures taken.  Though Halloween wasn't technically until the Sunday, I would just use that day to catch my breath from the previous two nights of awesoming. Maybe I could have celebrated it again Sunday night, but it was the Sabbath day, so I kept it holy and rested instead - hard to argue with the Bible.

Anyways, thanks for stopping by for storytime, blogomaniacs. We really should do it again sometime - 'twas fun. Until next time, this is Sir Marcus T. Williams signing off......

Yall stay classy now. 

Man in the Mirror

David Sedaris suggested that I start a journal or some method of writing everyday. Yes, this blog started that way, but it's tough to find the time to sit down and do it everyday like you can when physically schlepping around a notebook. Luckily for me (and all of you blogoteers out there), the entries from the latter can be transferrable to the former. Today's entry addresses vanity.

Anyone who has been following me on Twitter has seen that I am prone to ranting against the self-indulgent tendencies of those around me. For instance, one thing that grinds my gears like you wouldn't believe is when someone uses the "iPhoto" or "Photobooth" feature on their Macbook to take multiple pics of themselves. When I say multiple pics, I mean ENTIRE FUCKING ALBUMS. I have friends on facebook that do this all the time and it bugs me to no end. How self-absorbed can you be? What makes these people think that we want to see 35 variations of the same damn picture of just them? Using it every so often to create a new profile pic is one thing, but to stand/sit in front of your camera for that long to create 35 throwaway shots of yourself striking poses and making ridiculous faces IS NOT an ideal employment of the "variations on a theme" idea.

Really, random chick, really? REALLY???

Just last week, a girl in my Anthropology (DAAAMMMMMN, ANTHROPOLOGY???) class sat there and took various shots of her making kissy faces and perky boob shots. In the middle of class. A class with 300 other students. Far be it from me to get on someone's case for not paying attention in class, but really though? Is that what's hot in the streets? Nevermind the fact that this chickenhead wasn't particularly cute; how could anyone have that kind of wanton disregard for the people around them? There's healthy self-esteem and then there's brazen self-absorption, and this girl nailed option #2. I could never ever, IN A MILLION YEARS, sit in a class with that many people around me (read: ANY people around me) and do something that incredibly audacious. Needless to say, me and the few people who caught her doing this founds ourselves laughing together at the brash and oblivious vanity we were witnessing. I laughed to the point of tears, though those tears were mostly from weeping for my generation.

One reason why I would never do anything like that is that I'm self-conscious to a fault; I'm always thinking about how I will look in front of people, so I try not to set myself up for embarrassing things like that girl did. That sounds like a bad thing -- which it certainly can be most often -- but it makes me acutely aware of my strengths and my weaknesses for the most part. I know I can come off as judgmental and pretentious, but that's only because I'm twice as hard on myself, and with that in mind, I've been slowly coming to the realization that I'm a pretty vain guy myself (I mean, why else create a blog that may or may not be read by people?). Not outwardly vain in the sense that I'm braggadocious and like to draw attention to myself amongst a group of people like most vain people, but in the sense that I am not afraid (read: look for opportunities) to interject personal stakes in conversation and I care -- perhaps way too much -- about how I look. Let's just say that I'm always fully cognizant of and ready to use any mirrors around me.

For example, I have a hard time wearing clothes that don't match at least somewhat. It's a tough, self-imposed burden that I have to live with, but even when sitting around the house, I can't really bring myself to wear clothes that conflict in color. Not only do I want them to match, I want them to look good together. It gets even worse when I leave the house. One time, I recall wearing dress clothes to school all day and then coming home and changing into something more comfortable for a couple hours, only to change back into the dress clothes from earlier when it was time for me to go back out. What was I going back out to do, you ask? I was going back out to do one of the activities most people come to associate with formal wear, of course -- BABYSIT. I mean seriously, how absurd is that? Where they do that at? I still remember Gossip Girl getting on me about it that day ("Why are you wasting time changing? Those kids aren't going to care what you're wearing"). The irony of GG warning me that the dress clothes were a bad call is that I'm constantly perplexed by her insistence on getting far dressier for parties and bars than I do when we go out. Me and her don't always see eye to eye on things like this, but I generally dismissed this as the cultural differences between a young African-American male and a young Caucasian woman -- she just wouldn't understand my sense of style and my taste in clothing any more than a cat understands a dog's insistence on human companionship, and vice-versa. But guess what? GG was right, OH so right. I got to the house -- these kids lived in a trailerpark, I might add -- and those kids gave less than a damn that I was dressed up. I was clearly casting my pearls before swine, as they climbed all over me and tried to have me running all around and jumping up and down just like any other day.

I'm not vain.... Unless this is considered vanity

I tried to assuage some of my disappointment in their ignorance -- I looked sharp! I didn't dress like this just everyday! Couldn't children of 10, 7, 3, and 2 years of age appreciate that? -- by telling myself that more than anything else, dressing up was about making a good impression upon their mother, who certainly couldn't have been used to having a babysitter put in that kinda effort. Both of her arms were fully functional, so I was puzzled as to why she wasn't patting me on the back when I realized that this woman was questionably -- at best -- qualified to be a four-time mother, let alone give out recommendations based on the impression she got from the dapper-looking young man watching those kids. But when it really came down to it, my own vanity had as much to do with me wearing those dress clothes over there as anything else did. I wanted people to see me looking good, so much so that I deluded myself into thinking that such a thing might matter to these people. FAIL.

I'd be remiss if I didn't admit that I'm somewhat of a pretty boy. At times, I accessorize outfits like a teenage girl, and though I'm not particularly proud of that, it's just the way I am. I cannot say in full confidence that I own many clothes -- or any shoes at all -- that I would be totally comfortable getting dirtied. Yes, I know I have exposed some of my more effeminate qualities here today, but I am what I am; so sue me.

Y'all see where I get it from. 

The obvious question is: where do I get this all from? Well, the older I get and the less I want to admit it, the more I notice some of my own qualities in my dad. He came to visit a couple weeks back, and for all of the ways that we can butt heads on our differences in opinion, conflict can arise amongst some of our similarities as well:; most notably in this case, our affinity for getting dressy for banal activities. When he showed up here, he was decked from head to toe in formal wear featuring various shades of blue. He got to the house and sat around all evening and night in these clothes and shoes, which, at first glance, appeared to be gators. He insisted that they were, but as a gator perpetrator myself, I knew better; you can't bullshit a bullshitter. But throughout the weekend, I felt at times that I was looking into a slightly more compact body-length mirror. That mirror became even clearer once his late luggage finally arrived and I realized that he had packed very little in the way of clothing that could be of even any use on a potential camping trip. I guess it's a good thing that I quit the Boy Scouts so early as a kid.

My tangential anecdote was not so much about his visit as it is about the light that was further shed by it: my sometimes misguided sense of vanity is hereditary. While someone's sense of "style" is subjective (me and him differ A LOT in that regard), their obvious vanity is not quite so much. As I find myself speaking out more and more against the various forms of arrogance and self-absorption that permeate my world, it's only fair that I point those judgmental eyes at the man in the mirror.

Until next time, this is Sir Marcus T. Williams signing off.... Yall stay classy now.

Quick Update

Salutations blogosphere! Sir Marcus back here, Bringing Da Noise and Bringing Da Funk.

It's been awhile since we last spoke, and for that, I beg a thousand pardons of you. Since then, my life has been somewhat eventful -- my dad came out here to visit a few weeks ago, me and the Old Lady have reconciled somewhat, and my writing idol came to visit Mizzou.

In reference to that last item, David Sedaris came to Mizzou last Wednesday night and it was a terrific experience. He is even funnier in person than he is in print, which shouldn't come as a surprise, but I wasn't quite expecting it. I don't want my praise of him to be too effusive lest I sound like a groupie, but good Lord, I'd love to do what he does for a living: be a full-time writer that gets paid to tour the world giving lectures and reading excerpts from his books. When I say he's my writing idol, I mean something closer to inspiration -- it wasn't until I started reading his books about a year or so ago that I really decided that I wanted to be a creative nonfiction novelist, a point driven home all the more by my attendance of his lecture. It was funny, quirky, charming, endearing and self-deprecating -- everything that his fans would have expected and then some. When the lecture was over, I stood in line for three hours -- something I otherwise would never do -- to get my book signed and to his credit, even after three hours, he was as gracious, engaging and unassuming as he was on stage. While I imagine this part of his life is unbelievably tedious at times, it is a testament to his humility and good nature when we met that if I had to do it all again, I'd stand in that line for three hours again every single time. Absolutely life-changing event for me; not even joking.

The crux of the matter here is that when asking David what advice he would give to an aspiring writer, he said that I should just write everyday; he suggested starting a journal, which is what I've since done. Get ready for a bevy of blogs to come from hence forth, as that journal will be ripe with topics to share, such as the one following this update.

Hugs, Not Drugs

What it do baby boo? 'Tis Sir Marcus again here, providing yet another glimpse into the bucket of neurosis that is my brain; I do it because I care, people. Even HM would have to admit that I've been pretty diligent about these updates in the past few months, so if you see or speak to her soon, tell her yes, to answer the age-old question, I do want a cookie. While waiting on that, let's get right into this week's topic: drugs.

So as I was outside in Speaker's Circle people-watching between classes today, some guy comes up to me and gives me a flier from some group he's in -- the "Students for Sensible Drug Policy." I'm all for what they're trying to do. We can all acknowledge that our country's drug policies are less than perfect. The flier he handed me implores students to vote yes on Prop. 19 (California-based ballot for the legalization of marijuana). Though marijuana isn't for me, I've gone on record for conceding that legalizing it would do more good than harm, so it only makes sense that it becomes legalized. It's far less harmful than nicotene and alcohol, yet cigarettes and booze are both legal? That logic is unbelievably weak; no one's buying it and we shouldn't be selling it.

Here's the kicker, blogosphanatics: it's no secret that I'm straight-edge. That means that I don't drink, don't smoke, and generally don't take prescripted medications. That's just my choice - some of it has to do with my family's history of substance abuse, but it's mostly because I just don't personally find it that appealing. I'm certainly no C.M. Punk - I don't have an issue with those that do these things in moderation. It's your life and I say do whatever floats your boat, but keep in mind that said boat will most likely be sunk by the HUGEmongous crack rock that you're storing. You've been warned.

Speaking of crack... It still kills.

Back to the original premise of this post, the flier then proceeded to give "3 reasons that YOU should fight for sensible drug policies."This is where it falls apart for me. The first reason states "Your education is in danger," and then goes on to talk about how many students have had to drop out of school or find alternate means of paying for school because they had drug convictions and were denied financial aid. At the risk of sounding callous, I call tough titties on that one. Again, no one's saying that all of our drug laws are perfect, but at the same time, the law is pretty black and white about what's legal and not. It has always astounded me how people can willfully take part in an illegal activity -- that means ecstasy and meth as well, for those of you who are reading this from rehab -- but then act surprised or even angry when they are chastised for it. If part of the allure to breaking rules is that feeling of danger and the thrill of getting away with it, then part of that should also be the full resignation to the possibilities of getting caught and the subsequent consequences. You can't have your caked up crack rocks and eat them too.

Yes, even I will say that I think weed should be legal, but for the time being, it's not legal, and because of that, you are and absolutely should be subject to the full letter of the law; it's that simple. The flier also goes on to say that their 2nd reason is that the War on Drugs is a multi-billion dollar exercise in money wasting, but it doesn't suggest any solutions to this problem. Legalizing marijuana isn't going to mean that the drug industry WON'T cost money to maintain, and while it isn't legal, obviously we can't just stop spending on it cold-turkey, lest we risk freelance drug-dealing and usage running amok. So tell me, how would NOT spending money in the War on Drugs help? Don't worry, I'll wait...

Finally, there is reason #3 -- most drug-related violence is based on the prohibition of them as opposed to the abuse of them, consequently causing police to spend their time chasing the wrong criminals -- which also brings the weak sauce. That implies that cops are completely ignoring criminals for crimes not related to drugs. Rapists, arsonists, and those that murder just for the hell of it are no less important than drug dealers or those that murder over drugs, and this flier shouldn't try to reduce that issue  -- or any of these issues, for that matter -- to something so black and white; something so trivial. It's ridiculous to even begin to suggest that the time spent on drug-related crimes -- something that rightfully is very important -- is what has really been preventing cops from catching a serial rapist. Don't bring that weak shit into my house.

I will admit that I appreciate their enthusiasm though. Obviously the War on Drugs is much bigger than what I've mentioned here, but you guys get the gist. I believe they're sending the right message and plugging the right product, but their packaging is a little off. They need to come stronger than that because you can't sell me bullshit -- I know the prices. 

Until next time, this is Sir Marcus T. Williams signing off....... Yall stay classy out there and take care now. 

Self-fulfilling prophecy, FTSwindle

I smell what he's cooking

Oh blogosphere... Sometimes you have to laugh to keep yourself from crying.

Self-fulfilling prophecies are when things come to fruition because people indirectly cause it to happen, whether it be via their own neurotic tendencies or by someone else's subconscious actions. For example, Spencer Pratt believes he's a famous celebrity. Does he have any discernible talent? Not that I've seen. Is he an unbearable douchelord that most of us wish would just go away? Undoubtedly. But guess what? Those of us that hate him yet talk about how much he sucks (hello, ME!) are helping his celebrity grow because there's really no such thing as bad pub when you're famous for no reason to begin with. SELF-FULFILLING PROPHECY.  

Nice flesh-colored beard, dick. 

Why do I bring this concept up, you ask? Well, I have a self-fulfilling prophecy of my own that reared its ugly head this afternoon. My belief is that Murphy's Law - whatever can go wrong will do so - was originally created with my love life in mind. The only thing that was more surprising than The Old Lady sending me the "we need to talk" text this afternoon (we all know what that means) instead of coming over to hang out like we planned is the fact that we even got to the relationship stage to begin with. I say that not out of a lack of confidence in myself - far from it, I know I'm a catch - but out of an increasing paranoia that anytime I try to get involved with someone, it will somehow find a way to unravel. But then again, maybe it is me, as one can only run into the same coincidence SO many times before he has to find the common denominator of his problems. The more I say I'm not superstitious, the more I find myself being superstitious about things, and I've trained myself to not become too comfortable talking about relationships and potential ones because I actually believe it will jinx them. I wish I were kidding about that.

As a self-proclaimed romantic, I'm just not wired like most guys. It takes so much effort and so many things falling the right way for me to even get into the ballpark that most guys reach so effortlessly that when these things inevitably fall part, it's unbelievably disheartening. I'm not into "chasing tail" or adding notches to my proverbial belt - anyone who knows me can tell you that. Call it a lack of game or whatever you wanna call it, but there's no point in trying to be something you're not, and like Kanye said, everything I'm not makes me everything I am. Don't get me wrong - I'm not saying I'm better than those guys because I'm certainly not above the friends with benefits type of thing in the right situation. But 9 times out of 10, when it comes to dating, I'm much more of a slowly get-to-know-you kinda guy, preferring to go about it the less pressure-filled, easygoing way of talking to someone personally as opposed to approaching a girl in public at a bar and trying to manufacture a connection out of thin air. As far as I'm concerned, slow and steady wins the race because life is a marathon, not a sprint (ironic because I was a sprinter in high school track: I HATED any distance-related events).

It stands to reason that the one relationship I've had as an adult that would have lasted as long as I wanted was the one that I couldn't ever fully get invested in. I'm not so delusional that I think I'm the only one to experience this, but that doesn't make me feel any better and I can only complain about my own lot in life. Tonight is one of those rants that my boys back home would refer to as "homotional," but writing is the only real immediate catharsis I have ever known. Dammit, I'm one of the good guys, am I not? I just don't understand how the good guys are the ones who tend to strike out more when we're trying to do it the right way with the right intentions when Tucker Max is out there serial fornicating and not even apologizing for having nothing more going for him than being a literal and a figurative dick. It's like being broke and seeing those pro athletes that make millions upon millions of dollars and then end up broke when they retire; How in 5 hells does Antoine Walker blow $100 million in a career? Why should he be rich instead of someone who can take care of their money? What kind of world are we living in?

I blame Adam and Eve for taking a bite out of that fruit when God told them not to. Everything was perfectly peachy until they got too curious and here we are thousands of years later living in a messed up world.

Serpent: GOTCHA, BITCH!

Ha, that serpent was a rascal. Like I said, sometimes you have to laugh to keep yourself from crying. Until next time, this is Sir Marcus T. Williams signing off....

Yall take care now.

Another Weekend Update

Bonjour Blogosphere! Sir Marcus again here bringing you the latest musings from my world. Good ol' HM, bless her heart, not so subtly reminded me last night that the infrequency with which I blog is not acceptable to her. I can only assume that she's speaking for the general blogosphanatic populace, so yall owe her some gratitude, as here I am. Ready to take a ride? As with most rides, that question was rhetorical, as we're taking off right now, regardless of your preparation levels.

- As of last night, your boy is officially no longer single. Take a moment to digest that statement, as it constitutes fairly significant progress on my part.

Me and my new flame - I call her Old Lady - have been talking for about 2 weeks now and I must say, I am thrilled to death about it. In our short time seeing one another, we've just clicked from the very beginning and I feel good about where this is going. She's a great gal - very considerate and open-minded, and most importantly, she gets me and my sense of humor. I happen to think that my sense of humor is my biggest asset, so it's a HUGE plus when a girl gets me comically; that's more than half the battle, as far as I'm concerned. The rest of the battle is the girl being a fan of chocolate, so I think I'm good there - for now, at least. I haven't decided whether I'll be black tomorrow or not.

This represents progress because those of you who really know me can vouch for the comedy of errors that my love life has been seemingly since I hit puberty. Shortly after we became facebook official - the true barometer of any relationship's legitimacy in 2010 - there was quite an outpouring of support and reactions from some of my friends. Perhaps these people were legitimately happy for me in a relieved sort of way or maybe their reactions were just a release of previously-subdued pity, as if I had been the one-legged guy struggling to compete on American Gladiators. I'm not sure which one it is, placing me in the conundrum of not knowing whether to express gratitude or curse these friends of mine, but for the time being, a great big fucking thank you will have to suffice.

TV's most inspirationally-depressing hour ever.

- Last night was the 2010 MTV Video Music Awards, and those of you who remember my running "color" commentary on last year's train wreck (WFW pt. 2), will be sad to hear that this year's edition did not provide as many noteworthy moments.

Taking over the hosting duties this year was Chelsea Handler, who unfortunately will probably need to leave this gig off of any future hosting resumes. Most of us - with maybe the exception of this wholesome angel - generally find Handler to very funny or likable in some way, but the minute I heard she was hosting, I thought the decision was questionable, at best. The reason I say that is that those of us familiar with her work  - whether on TV or in her books - knows that her material is best served for mature audiences, a group that is probably not consisting of the trendy music-lapping, Jersey Shore watching teenage clientele who still watch MTV regularly. Handler's monologue mostly fell flat or went right over the audience's heads, something she probably didn't even realize. She had a throwaway line in the monologue about her being high because she decided not to drink that night that she probably included for humor purposes, but she most likely was high because the fact that her jokes weren't landing never appeared to even register to her. She seemed to be having a ball up there regardless of crowd reaction, which is good for her, but did not make for the most compelling television ever. 

As for the show itself, there wasn't much else to speak of. Of the apparent 6 awards that they probably handed out last night, I'd say Lady Gaga or Justin Bieber won 5 of them. Taylor Swift proved that her forgiveness can be earned but only after waiting AN ENTIRE YEAR, when she can bring it up at the same awards show with her song about Kanye West, "Still An Innocent." The night ended with Kanye performing publicly for like the 2nd time since last year's gaffe and giving his best apologetic effort to date, basically taking shots at himself and providing me and my cronies back home our group's new anthem in "Runaway." 

Besides that, nothing significant really happened. There certainly was no black guy trying to get away with a time-honored social faux pa that would have racial implications; Oh wait....

Blackface: this CAN'T go wrong! 

- NFL season is upon us. Just being able to say that after months and months of anticipation means that many fans across the country needed a change of pants shortly after the Saints/Vikings game kicked off this past Thursday night. My Dolphins are off to a 1-0 start, giving them a half-game lead over the hated Jets for all 6 AFC playoff spots. SO WHAT if the Jets don't play til tonight? The point is that they're in our rear-view mirrors at the moment, and shame on you all for making me say it.

-  I just finished reading The CollegeHumor Guide to College, an incredibly funny take on the various experiences and aspects that are common to college. Granted - not everything in here will apply to every single college student - but I tell you all, this book is HILARIOUS. It's a bit long for a book that reads like a handbook - around 350 pages - but you will not regret reading it. I'll even let you come over to my house and read it if you're my girlfriend. Be forewarned however - this is not for the young, the naive or the Amish; there is talk of sex, drugs, alcohol and electricity in this book.

Next up on the reading list: A.J. Jacobs' The Year of Living Biblically, in which the author actually attempts to live a year following the Bible as literally as possible; should be quite the ride. Stay tuned for further developments.

On that note, I think it's time to wrap her on up. It's been a joy catching up with you all, I hope you've enjoyed it as much. Until next time, holla at a playa when you see him in he streets, trick! No but for serious, yall stay classy and take care out there; this is Sir Marcus T. Williams, signing off....