Sore Feet and Chicken Feet

Moans and groans rose up through the muggy air as the morning sun beamed on my group of fellow students. Fifteen minutes into day two of Discover Chicago, and it was painfully obvious that none of us had acquired seasoned college legs quite yet. Lesson #1: higher education pounds out style for practicability. In short, forget the boat shoes. After I had brutally murdered my fashionista instincts, it was time to carry on with the day. Our first stop was the University of Chicago, but it might as well been a Nathaniel Hawthorne novel. To the left, a cold grey tower stood over the street, flaunting it's many sculptures and gargoyles. To the right, spires gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight on top of a church. I actually felt uncomfortable not carrying a sword around. Fortunately, we made it it out of castle-studded campus with no incidents, and boarded the train for Chinatown. One of my peers mentioned that he had never had true Chinese food. I chuckled at that, knowing I had grown up eating traditional Filipino recipes. This would be no problem. Lesson #2: Filipino food is not the same as Chinese food. After the third attempt at eating chicken feet, I gave up and longingly stared at the McDonald's down the street. Alas, the good people of Chinatown saved themselves from my nutrition-induced ire with their bubble tea. That is a true delicacy, and low-fat too! Not that I care. I'm a man.

Train of Thought

The grandson of Chicago residents, I assumed there were few surprises awaiting me in today's segment of the Discover Chicago course. Fortunately, as life often goes, I was incredibly wrong.

Today began with the announcement that we would be taking the L train to Oak Park. I instantly regretted not packing germ-x. Don't get me wrong; I'm not an in-your-face clean freak, but calculating the amount of hands that touch a given surface in the train per day is daunting. Still, I gave into my adventurous instincts and boarded anyway, making sure to touch as little as possible. Now, the initial group passengers were what I've come to expect in downtown: a young nurse, three clean cut businessmen, a couple of casual commuters, and a handful of disheveled midnight scholars. The majority of these train-folk sported Ipods and expensive haircuts. Hah! This train thing isn't so scary after all. 

Fast forward half an hour, and all of those commuters had abandoned me for their homes. As I peered out the window, the familiar city skyline faded and gave way to older buildings, abandoned factories, and gravel lots long forgotten. Trees and grass sprang into view, accompanied by communities swaddled with houses and small businesses. Our train made a couple stops throughout this area, and I quickly noted that it was a predominantly African-American neighborhood. This type of environment was where all my previous Chicago experiences had been regrettably skimpy. Race has never been, and never will a problem for me in terms of my judgement. Unfortunately, I discovered today an ignorance I've carried subconsciously my whole life; social class discrimination. I moved seats, avoided eye contact and conversation with almost everyone on that train until our group got to Oak Park. Despite the trips to Earnest Hemingway's home, a museum, and even Frank Lloyd Wright's swankiest creations, the thought that I, a seemingly well developed citizen, would discriminate by any means gnawed at me. I remember making an ultimatum, as Herb our tour guide gave us the rundown on Hemingway's grandpa, that I would embrace every culture and stretch out to all that is foreign to me, or die trying. Dramatic? Of course. Necessary? Yes. I was sweating when we left the comfortable Oak Park neighborhood. The sight of the well worn train tracks crept into view once again. Here I was: the moment of truth.

Fast forward half an hour, and I was just finishing up a conversation of my days as a clothing store employee with my newest seat buddy. She found it absurd that we weren't allowed stop shop lifters, and said she'd bust anyone robbing from her store. We both laughed loud enough to drown out the L's moaning as it began to slow for the next stop. She stood up to leave, and we exchanged our goodbyes. I put my face against the cool metal wall of the train and cracked a grin. Small victories are still victories.

OH SNAP.

What? I have a blog? Oh yeah, right.

This is pathetic. I last posted on January 13. That was like way back when Michael Jackson was still alive. Too soon? Too bad.

Speaking of sad things that aren't that sad for children, I stopped driving so fast when I go to school in the morning. Usually you can see me hitting 80 in the pedestrian zones next to the middle school, or cutting through Chatham Presbyterian's Parking lot to beat that stoplight (you've all thought about doing it too). By the way, Chatham Presbyterian, that security gate won't stop me. Anyway, I caught myself driving 35 in a 40, and ON TOP OF THAT, I was listening to smooth jazz on 88.3. I think I might be depressed, or turning into a grandma. To add to my torrent of elderly fever, I STILL don't know what Twitter is. Can somebody message me and tell me? Seriously. I'm taking up cocaine to get out of this slump.

Okay, that's all for now, Neanderthals.

Tip of the Hat/Bite of The Thumb Thursday #2

Muahaha. I miss TOTH/BOTH Thursdays. They gave me a chance to rip on people without any consequences. Well, besides for when I made fun of Canadians. Which was yesterday.
IMPORTANT NOTE: A few of you have asked me about the actual title of TOTH/BOTH Thursdays. A tip of the hat is a way to let someone know you have acknowledged their achievements, beauty, or status. On the flip side, a bite of the thumb clearly tells a person they have been meddling in wrongdoing. We cool on the definitions? Let's bro:

TIP OF THE HAT goes to this guy:

Could I interest you in some candy?

This man is a finely mustachioed legend. Some call him Vietnam Tom, while others simply gargle as their throats collapse from his endless barrage of fists. He derives his fame from brawl he took part in, while riding an intercity transit bus. What started as a petty argument, quickly escalated into a jaw smashing fist fight. Catch the action here. America literally runs through this man's veins.

BITE OF THE THUMB goes to Nicholas Cage. First it was Skull Rider. Fine. Then it was The Magician's Apprentice. Okay. Now, he's coming out with a movie entitled Season of the Witch? Apparently he doesn't understand that the only genre he'd excel in is reading courtroom dialogues. What's exciting about watching a low budget witch film where Nicholas Cage bares his horse teeth every five seconds? Nothing, unless he uncovered some treasure while in the company of talented supporting actors. You know what I'm talking about Nicholas. I would prefer scrubbing my body with sandpaper over hearing the dryness of his voice. Despite all this, he's a very successful man, and lives a higher standard of life than most people. For that, I think this following picture materializes my thoughts exactly:

Promiscuous Girl

Was that too much? I apologize ten fold.

OKAY THAT'S IT.

Okay, listen guys. For the last month and a half, I've been trying to uncover the reason for why I neglect this blog, instead of actually writing in this blog. THE THING IS, I'm starting to realize that it's really janking hard to whip out a tasty blog post almost everyday. You see writing a blog is like making love, no matter how many times I do it, I still cry at the end. Why don't girls ever care about my feelings? JUST kidding mom. My virginity has better security than Lil Wayne's comfortable Beverly Hills mansion. Lil Wayne: the only man allegedly capable of killing a police officer, sleeping with a police officer, and a making the Kidz Bop Top Ten List, four years running. Let's face it man, you are past your prime. Step down from your sudo-gangster soapbox, and make way for a real artist:

Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the Pamper's Deluxe Home Changing Station.

I would make more jokes about this squandered use of life, but he's already got it pretty bad; he's from Canada. Some people might take offense to that and say "Hey man. Canada has lots to offer". I would hate Canada had it not been for their delectable... moose meat? No. Ski resorts? No. Hockey? No. Hockey fights? No, we have UFC. Lets face it folks, Cananda literally has nothing to offer us. Let's be the bigger man here (obesity epidemic jokes not intended), and toast these guys already. Ooh, watch out for the scary Canadian mountaineers, with their big, bad horseback calvary. I'm sorry horse-lovers, but even countries like Uzbekapakigoliprussiastan have tanks by now. They might win, only, if the Global War Lawmaking Committee rules that wars are decided by horseback polo matches. Then we have no choice but to unconditionally surrender.

Welp. It'll be another 5 months until I post anything.
-Con.

Emptied.

Where does time go? Before finals I told myself I'd take a break from blogging to focus on studying. Now its been a month since I've laid my fingers on this keyboard. The duration of that month was excruciating; the unexpressed emotions of my brain waging a pyrrhic war against procrastination and atrophy. The sanest part of my staggering brain told me "atleast I'll have lots of ideas to write about when I come back". I had to agree with that certain lobe of my brain: I had been pondering many things, in fact, I had almost let my thoughts consume me.

Now I'm sitting here, breaking my month-long hiatus, and all I can think of is...
nothing.

Nada. Zip. Goose Egg. Squat. What happened? Did somebody poke a drainage hole in my cerebrum and gleefully watch all my ideas slop out? I'm frustrated, tired, and a little fearful (but that is a whole other matter). I'm sorry my "comeback post" is so dismal. Maybe I won't be so brain dead tomorrow. Goodnight.

-Con

On my mind.

Right now, I'm a little chilly. But I'll manage.

Right now, I have a little cold. But It'll be gone tomorrow.

Right now, I'm tired. But I have a warm bed to sleep in tonight.

Right now, my homework lies blank. But I'll do it eventually.

Right now, I'm a little hungry. But I have food to eat.

Right now, I lie alone in this room. But I have friends I can talk to.

Right now, I wonder what I'll get for Christmas. But I know I'll get something.

Right now, I worry about college. But I got accepted.

Tomorrow, some of these worries will wash away.

In time, all worries will disappear.

-

Right now, he is freezing. It's hard to stay warm with the rags he calls clothes.

Right now, she is ridden with sickness. She can only hope her condition gets better.

Right now, he is exhausted. He wonders where he can lay his frail bones tonight.

Right now, he clutches a ratty, torn book. He dreams he could go to school.

Right now, she is curled in a ball, holding her sides. She hasn't eaten in days.

Right now, he twiddles his dirty thumbs. He wishes someone would reach out to him.

Right now, he wonders what it's like to receive a Christmas present.

Right now, he is unsure what will befall him tomorrow. He wonders if living another day is possible, much less worth it.

Tomorrow, they all might be gone.

In time, more wretched souls will find themselves in the same place.

Whether it's lending a hand, volunteering, giving, feeding, talking, comforting, or even smiling; any act of charity can overcome the worries of today, with the promise of tomorrow.

-Con.