More Cameroon to Love

The Bakassi Peninsula is ours! Details of this latest development in the Nigerian-Cameroon border settlement are atafrol news.

Proof Again or With a Name Like Eucalyptus...

I can contain my excitement no longer!

More than ten years ago, non-Cameroonian Jocelyn Moorhouse directed a dark, funny, elegantly structured little film called Proof. Her two male leads went on to star in some of the most ginormous products Hollywood has distributed in recent years, while all she got out of it was another critically praised yet obscure movie and a couple of weepy chick flicks.

Perhaps soon, this (dare I say) injustice will be rectified. A few trade papers have reported that a certain shirty actor plans to give the Opie movies a rest and act under Moorhouse's direction once again in Eucalyptus, a film set in their native region. With a name like that, it has to be good. Oh, let it come to pass! Let no injuries stand in the way! Let no sacrosanct respect for the source material screw up the script!

Have American chick flicks ruined Ms. Moorhouse, or will she, inspired by a burly muse, at last fulfill the promise of her first feature? I'll have to wait over a year to find out.

Cameroon Gold

We Cameroonians were so proud of Francoise Mbango Etone as she triple jumped into Olympic history. Shame on those who thought that she had taken illegal drugs. Do they not know the strength that is Cameroon? Perhaps they had forgotten our glorious victory on the football field in Sydney and they needed a mental refresher! Ha!

The Definition of Insanity

Maybe it's because it's summer, maybe it's because I live in a compatible guy trough, or maybe I just wasn't made for lovin'. For whatever reason or reasons, online dating is not working for me, so I'm scaling back.

I let my subscription to match dot com run out. Why pay a monthly fee to be mostly ignored and occasionally contacted by strange men? I get that on the street for free. My pay-by-use spring street profile remains active.

If only I could meet guys just by being myself, doing what comes naturally, and not spending extra money. Not in this life.

Next on the list--taking classes I wouldn't take otherwise.

Stress Juice

Waiting for the stress juice to clear out of my chest

So Many Leos, So Many Liams

There are many Leos in my life--my dad, a mess of friends, and my nephew, Thing 1.

This past weekend, I went up to the burbs of Boston to celebrate Thing 1's sixth birthday. Mom and Dad were there, too. My brother and sister-in-law threw a Yu-Gi-Oh! bash for the kid at a nautically themed mini golf arcade called Par-Tee. The party, as kids parties go, was half way to miraculous. Thing 1 has 15 of the most well behaved young friends, all boys, I have ever seen. No one cried. No one kicked. No one puked. No one peed his pants. No one was conked in the head with a mini golf putter. The professional Par-Tee hostess and her teenage mini-teed side kicks kept a potential horde of rug rats safe for 2 hours of sugar stoked organized revelry. I believe the key to the party's success was the well timed, controlled release of boy energy. The hostess donned a pirate costume, checked to see that Thing 2 was out of the room (he's only 2 and a half), then jumped in to surprise the guests, but none of them were scared. They were too jaded from past parties. Eventually, even Thing 2 toddled up to the pirate to shake his plastic hook.

Among the partiers there were 2 Liams, an Eamon, a Kieran, a Rohan, a Joe, a Sean, but no Jasons, no Daves, and not even a Mike. I seem to recall a George, but there were certainly no Maliks.

I tried to bring a gender-neutral but exciting gift, one that would neither encourage violence, nor subject Thing 1 to any teasing from the guys (The boy enjoys cooking and takes great pride in selecting the right outfit for an occasion, and the mediation of folding clothes and setting a stylish table, but I my gift could not relate to these interests). I thought a set of markers and drawing pads would go over well, but no. As soon as Thing 1 pulled them out of the gift bag, a kid cried out "My sister would like that! She likes art!" I topped it off by giving Thing 1 a smooch on the forehead. Oh well. Several packs of Yu-Gi trading cards, the pile of Spider-Man accessories and the Legoesque BTR Armada Transformer soon put that embarrassment out of everyone's head. At least I wasn't the kid who gave Thing 1 a tired t-shirt with some boring sea turtle design, in a Pink Panter gift bag, no less. If that wasn't a re-gift, then I'm a real pirate.

What Color is Your Paradox

(this post is tune enhanced! it is also too long to be shown in its entirety)
Many career change guides instruct you to visualize your dream job with everything you could ever want. Until recently, this excercise would give me a high school math test headache, because I was scared that I would get it wrong. The moment I would start to vis, some mental nasty would issue a "you can't do that!" and stink up the place. No more. Now I can visualize through the stink. So here are the Dream Jobs. (feel free to hum Dreamgirls theme song as you read)

Heiress
Sorceress (only evil when provoked)
Mattress Tester
Super Genius
Mrs. Hart--she's gorgeous
Executive Producer, television

Dreamyknees: Executive Producer! Yeah, that's it.
Nastyknees: Hello!
Dreamyknees: What it is now?
Nastyknees: You already fucked that one up, remember? Remember?!?!

Long ago, when I was a couple of years out of college and on a vacation from my brief stint in the alternative media funding field, I actually met with the Executive Producer of one of my favorite programs in one of my favorite cities. (imagine harps playing as you click here for the whole shebang)

I toucheden it!

It is good to make quick stuff.
It is good to take time.

The stuff I make is good
except when it is not.
But making stuff is better
than not making stuff.

Fri, Sat, Sun

On Fri, the improv group did a fringe preview performance at Tritone at something called the Binge Festival. Even the acts that totally sucked were at least entertaining in their freakishness. For our brief set, I asked the audience for a location and we got "The Governors Mansion in NJ." Yeah, it was that kind of crowd. We got some genuine good feedback, even though the bar was far from an ideal venue for our thang. The Binge show was hosted by the same guys who prematurely axed me at the karaoke smackdown, but I didn't recognize them until the end of the evening. I could give them such a pinch! If you go to the Fringe, you should see Fat Kid Opera, which is part of Anna Bella Eama.

On Sat, I brunched with Mrs Ass, then lounged about shamelessly as I waited for word from Aunt Liz on when I should visit. I thought, soon the sun will set and I will have wasted a day to this bed, so I returned to the freaking library to geta book. I checked my email to find that a man in an ascot had send me a match dot com wink. Curiousity forced me to reply. It turns out he was wearing it because of some rocky horror related event. Horror indeed. As Qui used to say, run screaming from that! I took two feature length movies for me to redo my hair.

On Sun, I visited Aunt Liz and Uncle P. A couple of weeks ago, my Uncle P took a bad turn and was hospitalized, but he is unsinkable. He's made great improvements since I visited last weekend. I'm not much good in the hospital, trying to look pleasant as my eyes follow the tubes going in and out, but there were less tubes this time.

Newsflash: I Used Algebra Today at Work

Now I can look any kid in the eye and say, "Yes, I use algebra in real life."

Talk About the Passion

Today during lunch break, I voluntarily went to an HR session to watch a video called "the Passion Plan." In "The Passion Plan," this guy Richard Y. Chang explains how to spark passion at work. Not that kind of passion. Chang encouraged viewers to consider all the positive aspects of work. Here's my list of the most exciting aspects of my job.

Excellent health benefits and dental coverage
Convenient location
Free videos and books
Free internet access
Entertaining (wittingly and unwittingly) co-workers
Getting to work with fun software in between regular duties
Getting to design t-shirts once a year
No hosiery expectations

Frankly, but for the benefits, that list sucks. Yet I must make the best of my current situation, if only out of kindness to the people who share my workspace. They might not know it, but I try my best not to give off a miserable vibe. I just have to find a way to be cheerful without coming off like an idiot or a doormat.

In a creepier part of the session, the live facilitator hearkened back to her parents' days when workers were just happy to have a job, never mind any career passion. Yes, them coal mines was bliss. And they knew wot was wot down at mill.

I think there's some kind of weird crazy making going on here. I really do want to have a positive attitude and take personal responsibility for my career. I just don't know if employers can expect employees to be proactively empowered and loyally content at the same time.

I also went to a private career coach this week for an initial consultation. She was much better than the career coach in my HR department. One approach the private coach recommends trying move within the university. I've been looking for job postings and I was already rejected for one job, but with the low hosiery requirements, openings are rare here. Perhaps I can use both career coaches in a pincer move, or what the Zulus called The Horns of the Bull.

Boobs for the Whole Family

The thing is, Kirikou and the Sorceress is a family film, so long as your family is cool with topless people and naked children. Maybe some of the character designs are a bit idealized, but to the film's credit, even the elderly are portrayed very realistically and there are people of many shapes and sizes. The whole family can enjoy this film on many levels.

Movies to Do Your Hair By

Sure, it won a special prize at Cannes, but Visconti's Death in Venice is not a good movie to watch while doing any kind of hair rolling, braiding or stylized twisting. Your quest for beauty will probably end like Gustav's.

Maybe if I watched Kirikou and the Sorceress, not only would my hair be magical, but my breasts would be as nubile as the day they came in.

Pine for You

I am a subtle taste, like Pine. I am a quiet, fresh taste, almost more of a scent than a flavour. You will be aware of me, but not quite remember me without being reminded. Not that I'm boring; on the contrary, I'm just a little outside the ordinary. What Flavour Are You?

Okay, so I taste like a tree. If a tree fell in the woods, would you eat it?

Lost and Found

As I was walking home Friday evening, a missing pet sign caught my eye. Someone's beloved family iguana had escaped. The sign described the iguana, so that no one would confuse it with any other iguana you might stumble across on the sidewalks of West Philadelphia, and added that "our kids really love" the iguana. Perhaps the kids had interpreted that saying "if you love someone, set it free" a little too loosely.

My cousin's twin sons, who are about 6 years old, have always conspired in one way or another. This time, it involved a decorative crystal bowl that my cousin received as a wedding present. The bowl had survived 6 years of twin boys, but then it's number was up. Tempting fate, my cousin and his wife had recklessly displayed the dazzling bowl on a living room table. Of course, it disappeared. Everyone assumed that it had been broken, secretly swept up, and quietly thrown away. Still, my cousin's wife kept looking for it. It had survived so long against the odds, there was still hope. A couple of weeks after the crystal bowl vanished, one of the twins woke my cousin and his wife in the night. "We have to go outside." he said. They couldn't get him to explain any further, but the child must have insisted urgently, because my cousin and his wife took their son out to the yard. There the boy showed them where he and his brother had buried the crystal bowl, and they unearthed it in tact. My cousin asked why the twins had buried the bowl. The boy replied, "It was a weapon of mass destruction."

Old News

"Back in Egypt inefficiency and corruption in the administration and high interest rates by European bankers brought bankruptcy, which led to British and French plans to occupy the country in the interest of European investors. After considerable political maneuvering the British landed troops in Alexandria in 1882, defeated nationalist troops, took control of Egypt's finances, pledged to reform the administration and withdraw. The French, unable to intervene because of domestic problems, were apprehensive of Britain's unilateral move."

from Africans and Their History by Joseph E. Harris, Ph. D., from the 1998 edition.

Savage Pictures, Voorhees in My Mind

a quote from Jonathan Swift. (Whoo hoo!)

Geographers on Afric Maps
with Savage Pictures fill their Gaps

I have finally broken away from soggy novels...for now. Reading them was like being the only one watching a soap opera or the West Wing. When something outlandish happened, I had no one to turn to who would understand, no one to share my excitement. "Can you believe what Diana said to the Doctor?" "What the f are you talking about?" Also, I couldn't supress the slighly paranoid notion that the soggy novels were slowly converting me to some kind of classical liberal humanism, which is not the worst world view ever, but still.

So now I'm reading these books about African history. One problem has carried over from the soggy book reading: my poor knowledge of geography. All these kingdoms and people are running together like oils in a parking lot puddle. The books describe where Kush was, they include a couple of dinky maps, but it might as well be just south of Voorhees in my mind. I want no gaps in which savage pictures may develop.

Hail Mary Janes

This may be as close to a miracle as I will ever come. I was walking by the sidewalk display of a campus shoe store, giving it a cursory glance because I'm a size 11 and shoe sale racks are barren wastelands. But so was the womb of Sarah (I think). Lo, what should appear on that table but a black and comely Mary Jane marked inside with the holy numbers 11 and 16.99.

Rejoice! I saw the shoes and they were good.

(Am I going to hell for this?)

Some Kind of Long

Who would you say was the least likely to see Metallica: Some Kind of Monster on its opening weekend? If you guessed me or perhaps a certain librarian/historian/mother to be, well, you lose.

Metallica: Some Kind of Monster was a funny, insightful, rambling rock documentary--a genre that's pretty hard to screw up. It doesn't matter whether or not you actually like the music. Neither Pony Girl nor I could name a Metallica song before we saw this film. I still probably couldn't name one now. Yet we both had a good time. Also, I am a sucker for movies about guys talking to each other(25th Hour, The Best Man, etc.).

The film proves that, in case you didn't know, being rich in the Bay Area doesn't suck. But it also shows us that happiness is not always where you think it might be, especially if you think it might be found on a 2 week bear shooting vodka snorting spree in Russia.

Pony Girl and I took heart from the fact that even superstar egomaniacs have job anxiety. Drummer Lars Ulrich was still anxious to know whether his music would please his Danish father (Pony Girl said he looked kind of like Gandalf). I was a bit saddened by how much the band members hurt each other and how much unhealthy competition there was between them, even those who were no longer a part of the band. In one scene, one of the band member's wives said to a toddler as she removed him from the studio "come on, the boys...I mean the men have to go back to work now." I can't deny the appeal a job that seems to allow you to stay in a perpetual state of mental adolescence, but sometimes being in touch with your inner artistic child makes you an outer obnoxious prick.

The filmmakers could have taken a pointer from lead singer James Hetfield's hair stylist and done some serious cutting. There were far too many scenes of Metallica eating snacks, which made pregnant Pony Girl terribly hungry and didn't teach us much more about the band's inner workings, other than these guys had access to some quality noshing. One piece of grilled salmon was particulary distracting.

I strongly recommend this film to egomaniacs, adolescent boys who should learn a thing or two about anger management and alcohol, collaborative artists, musicians, therapists, and the nosey.