strobeflier.com

This blog is ancient and will no longer be updated. =)

Please visit http://www.strobeflier.com instead.

Thanks!

The Gallery

There was the Shadow

And so there was the Gallery

Infinite walls of photos, words, stories, lies

Perpetuated through infinite corridors.

The Shadow skulked behind.

Each exhibit untouchable, infallible

Each still and empty

Each realized by the onlookers

But without reality, without meaning.

And the Shadow skulked behind.

The massive sunlit rooms

With floors paved with fear

Perfectly beautiful, inviting

Never revealing.

For the Shadow skulked behind.

An exquisite foyer

Beautified and groomed

But by whom?

The entrance, welcoming doors

Into this vast, terrible room,

An empty, meaningless tomb.

And the Shadow skulked behind.

A hall of memories

Many false, many altered

The bastard children of deceit

Mere dreams, far removed from what must be

To rectify where life faltered

Yet riddled with faults and fallacies.

The Shadow skulked behind.

Wall after wall of artful prose

Carefully crafted by the one who knows

With truth concealed

Emptiness seeping into the ruthless flow

Of the lies that heal,

Of the void that grows.

And the Shadow skulked behind.

A single sculpture, mighty and bold

The largest display

A hollow figure, its presence cold

With a tragic, familiar face

That only an artist could mold

Proudly it stood, unflinching, in its place.

The Shadow skulked behind.

As the sun did set,

The Gallery closed.

And in darkness as it was,

Silent, empty, still.

Out of a corner, slowly, with caution

He appeared, yelling, crying.

Rag in hand, he looked

And spat at His creation.

He trudged to the sculpture,

with his pathetic rag he cleaned.

Vigorously wiping and rubbing

Till its surface gleamed.

He went to the foyer

As was his urge.

And cleaned again, and again

Till all had been purged.

He cleaned all the pictures, the paintings, the prose

Each and every exhibit, as his tears did flow.

Some art he took down; it was old and uncouth

He was sure to replace each with a work that was new.

For He was the artist, the sculptor, the bard

And in this terrible Gallery was only His art.

As the sun did rise

The doors would unbind.

The visitors entered.

The Shadow skulked behind.

Fate Encroaches

This will be the most revolutionary semester of my life. I'm ready for it.

No Easy Way

Close your heart
Close your eyes
Fake a kiss and
Say goodbye

When you know it’s not the way
And you’re leaving home today

Anger rises
The deed is done
Just to say you
Can’t go on
When you know that’s not the way
Yet you’re leaving home today

If I see a tear in your eye
It’s an easy way

To say goodbye

You’re afraid
So you lie
Sometimes this will get by
But you know that’s not the way
And I trust you anyway

Harmony
But not for long
Plain to see
We’re doing something wrong
Even though you've gone away
I still love you

But if I see a tear in your eye
It’s an easy way
To say goodbye... oohhh oo

To say goodbye... oohhh...bye

To say goodbye......

Sent you Rilke
By hand
Hoping you would understand
Don’t you know that’s not my way
I was missing you today

Anger rises
The deed is done
Just to say that
You can’t go on

When you know that’s not my way
’cause I still love you

After all we’ve
Said and done
Can’t you see
We can’t go on
’cause God knows there’s no easy way

To say goodbye.

-"No Easy Way", Seal

Hope and Dread

As the end of the break draws near, the hope and dread of my impeding return to the West begin to instill a variety of memories, thoughts, and ideas in my mind. There are many things to look forward to-- reuniting with friends, planning out the semester for the Chorale and Movement, sharing stories about interesting moments that occured over break, the new season of 24, etc. There are also many things to worry about. As soon as I get back, I'll be overwhelmed with responisbilites. What will the people at Fantasy T-Shirts say when I finally pay them the $350 I've owed for months? How will I fix my ridiculous class schedule? When am I goign to clean my room, fix my computer, return Aunt Joyce's pan??? AAAAAHHHH!!!!

The thing I like most about being home is the complete lack of responsibilities. I can sleep and wake up whenever I want. I can go out whenever I want. I can sit around and do nothing all day if I want. Cal is a different story. The whole endeavor is like leaping out of a speeding roller coaster, only to leap back into it a month later.

Of course, being myself, instead of enjoying these precious few moments I have left here in Maryland, I'm complaining to all my friends that I'm bored and tired and need to go back to Cal. And it's true. I'm getting nostalgic. But I know that as soon as I get back, I'll be yearning to come back home as soon as possible....

Family, Evolved

* Aunt Toots turns 90

* Dad turns 60

* Brother gets a tattoo

* Cousin thinks he's a thug now

* Other cousin has baby

* Big Momma gives me $100 for X-mas, a new record

* Makes up for the gigantic pink T-shirt she also got me

* Grandma livlier than ever

* Cousin matures exponentially

* Dad says "I love you" for the first time (over the phone, of course)

* Mom doesn't change at all

* Me? Well read the blog and find out ;)

... all during the holiday season. Time flies....

Newton Would Understand...

I openly admit to being an Apple fanatic.

...

Ok, now that that's out of the way, on to Macworld. Macworld is a well-known bi-annual trade show showcasing Apple-related products. It's common appeal comes from Steve Jobs' keynote addresses, in which he reveals new and exciting Apple products. This year's keynote focused on new Intel-based macs and numerous software updates, both of which were pretty underwhelming compared to, say, the introduction of the iMac in 1998 or the every-popular iPod in 2001.


However, one particular announcement caught my attention. iWeb, a new application bundled with iLife (which includes iTunes, Garageband, etc.) that vastly improves the development capabilities of ".Mac", an Apple web service moderately comparable to MSN. Being an avid .Mac member, I quickly looked into iWeb's features. Apparently, the app will allow me to incorperate my blog directly into my personal website (homepage.mac.com/rolawson). Also, it makes podcasting VERY easy. It has been suggested that I should start podcasting, and I didn't really consider that suggestion until now. Podcasting seems fun, interesting, and very useful, so now, I'm planning on starting as soon as I get back to Cal.

Till then! ;)

Paradoxes

Moore's - "I have posted, but I don't believe that I have."

Horse - "All posts are the same color."

Curry's - "If this sentence is true, then this post does not exist."

Epimenides' - "All Robert Lawsons are liars."

Quine's - "“Yields falsehood when preceded by its quotation” yields falsehood when preceded by its quotation."

Raven - "Reading this post increases the likelihood of other people's posts being orange."

Nihilist - "Truth does not exist."

Giffen - "Increasing the cost of reading this blog will make people read it more."

Liar's - "This post is false."

Good Ol' VA

It'd been quite a while since I'd last gone down to Virginia to visit Big Momma. Mom decided to sit the trip out. Dad, T, and I left about five hours after we'd planned, which is fairly typical. Dad turned on the Redskins game and nearly gave me a heart attack once he started screaming and cheering maniacally. I hadn't had a meal that day, so I started complaining about food. We decided to stop at Tyson's Corner.

At Tyson's, I convinced my dear dad to replace the unopened iPod from Christmas with a better one. So now, technically, I have my sixth iPod. Ridiculous. I wasn't really excited about it (it's my SIXTH!!) except for the fact that it's my first black one. That's kinda cool. I opened it at toyed with it a little, only to find that fingerprints and minor scratches were far more noticeable on this one than on the white ones. Oh well, price you pay to have a cool black iPod.

Anyway, we stopped at 7 Eleven to get my only meal of the day, which consisted of Ritz crackers, a Kit Kat Big Kat Bar, and a Dr. Pepper. Yum.

We got to Big Momma's pretty late and should've immediately crashed. Instead, as we usually do when extremely tired, T and I watched a movie. Bram Stoker's Dracula. It's a great film, even with its differences from the novel. I highly recommend it. In fact, I alluded to one of the main characters of the novel/film, Lucy, in a short story I wrote last year called "The Drifter".

So far the trip's going well. Got a Pod. Saw a flick. Ate some Ritz. Then there was church....

After going to bed around 3:30, T and I had to wake up at 9 for church. For some ungodly reason, Dad decided we needed to be up at 7, so he promptly burst into the room where we were sleeping peacefully and did... that thing he does when he wakes us up. He always starts by saying "RISE AND SHIIIIIIIIIIINE!!!!" followed by the single most agitating trumpet impression ever performed in the history of mankind. If we're not awake and plotting to off him by then, he tickles our feet. WTF. By now, I've gotta be awake, trying as best I can to "accidently" kick him as he tickles me so he'll stop. Even though I'm awake, however, he feels he must still go to the next level-- yanking the covers off so I freeze to death. Wonderful. At this point, I promptly leap out of bed in a fit of anger ranting about how immature his shinanigans are. Dad is never phased by my shouting though, because one can clearly see a smile on his face indicating that he had won. He got me out of bed in two minutes time, a feat only he could master.

After I'm up, I eat a small breakfast and get ready for the service. As we drove down, Dad began pointing at random bits of land, claiming it was ours. "From about heeeere to heeeeeeeeeeeeeere, is yours Robert," he insisted. "Ok Dad," I'd say quietly, still pissed about the feet-tickling. At this point I'm way too tired to question him about what I could possibly do with dozens of acres of abandoned grasslands and decaying forests. Not that I'm complaining. It's cool to have land I guess. Even in rural Virginia.

The church service started at 10am. It ended at 1:30. -_-

After church, we went to do what we came to VA to do in the first place. Celebrate Aunt Toots' birthday. Aunt Toots' is notorious for her driving. If you're in a nearby car, she can never be behind you. Always in front or passing. This is most likely a result of her not-so-good habit of going twice the speed limit. This isn't particularly uncommon in rural places. Everyone's a crazy speeder in VA. But Dad, T, and I were now heading to a restaraunt to celebrate Aunt Toots' NINETIETH birthday with the family. Now, when I watch old people drive on TV, they're very slow and cautious. Old people are supposed to hold up traffic. Not Aunt Toots. You may think I'm a pussy for being scared to have a 90-year-old drive me somewhere. If you were in my family, you wouldn't be.

For the celebration, we went to a Spaghetti & Steak House. Who the hell comes up with that combination?? Spaghetti and steak are nothing alike. They don't taste similar. You usually don't find them in the same restaraunts. And they don't go well together. But alas, here I was, looking at a menu where one side was exclusively Italian and the other was exclusively steak. Unbelievable. I chose not to question it and thoroughly enjoyed my filet mignon.

Dinner was rowdy as usual. Gradually, we noticed the number of white people in the restaurant dwindle until the entire restaurant was all black. They couldn't handle us. After a while, the restaraunt owner turned on the AC. We assumed they were trying to drive us out. Didn't work. Dad went up to them and made them turn it off. At one point, my uncle stood up and yelled at the top of his lungs "EVERYBODY STOP!!! Stop right now! I have an announcement! Robert is in a HIP HOP DANCE GROUP." I promptly buried my head in my hands as Big Momma and Aunt Toots uttered things "Robert can dance?" and "I thought he liked white music." Big Momma is ruthless. Gotta love her.

After we returned to Big Momma's house (har har) Dad made all of us watch his boring-ass video of his $500 helicopter ride over Hawaii (the island). I had to sit through a grueling half-an-hour of bad tour guide jokes and cute Hawaiian music. The only redeeming part of the film was the five seconds of lava moving around in the volcano crater. I also found it quite hilarious and unsurprising that the tour guide called all the passengers by their first names except for Dad, who he called "Dr. Lawson". After the video, my father quickly went into the kitchen to brag about his upcoming trip to Tobago.

We left three hours later than we said we would, which is to be expected. All in all, the trip was great. It's always good to get together with family and have some fun. Especially if that family is the one-of-a-kind Lawsons.

Hiatus

Off to Virginia for some quality time with Big Momma....

Two Bits

Well-known fact: I don't have many black friends. This isn't to say I don't have more than most of my friends at Cal, because, clearly, I do. But I do have significantly fewer than many of my friends at home. Of course, race shouldn't matter when it comes to friendship and whatnot, but not having many black friends has had its consequences. One prime example has become more and more apparent, especially today when I was getting my haircut.

Non-blacks don't appreciate black hair.

This notion was at first pure speculation but has since been written into canon. Questions like "Why do you brush your hair?", "Why do you need a haircut?", and "Why do you use hairspray?" arise all too often, and, although they may be ignorant and annoying, perhaps they aren't entirely undeserving of an explanation.

The hair of a black male is coarse, usually manifesting itself as small, thin, tightly bunched curls. These curls, known as "BBs", are unsightly and have to be taken care of. There are a number of ways to get rid of BBs. Some of the more popular are as follows:

1. They can be combed out. This usually results in hair becoming less dense and more full. If the hair is long enough, it becomes an afro, a well-known hairstyle that has thankfully dwindled in the past 20 years.

2. They can be brushed out. This does NOT result in an afro. Rather, it just results in moderately long hair.

3. The hair can be cut short. Black (AA) hair, when cut short enough, becomes straight. This is called a "close" haircut. This is Rob's preference.

4. An exotic hairstyle, such as cornrows, braids, or gelled curls, will do the trick.

Numbers 1 and 2 are quite easy to achieve, as one can perform the task himself. However, 3 and 4 are considerably more difficult. Most people understand the difficulty with regard to cornrowing and braiding hair or maintaining gelled curls, but most people do NOT understand the difficulty of perfoming a proper haircut on black hair. For example, the average time it takes me to get a haircut is about 45 minutes. This fact will give 90% of non-blacks a perplexed look. How can a haircut possibly take that long? Let me 'splain.

First, the hair has to be cut. This is a fairly simple task. You just turn on the razor and cut away. THEN, the hair has to be STYLED. This can be very easy with fair hair, but it is almost always quite difficult with black hair. First, the hairline has to be sculpted to perfection. It must be a perfectly straight line, and it must be perfectly positioned. Cutting it too high will result in abnormal hair growth on people who would normally have widow's peaks, like me. Second, the back end of the hair must be properly sculpted in the same fashion if solid or properly faded if... faded. Third, the sideburns, which can have a variety of different styles, must be sculpted, faded, or gotten rid of. The curve lines behind the ears and corners leading from the ears to the hairline also take a considerable amount of time to sculpt properly. This is precisely why haircuts take 45 minutes. Fair hair can simply be clipped. *snip snip* DONE. Black hair isn't so easy to do.

Not only does the hair on top of our heads take considerable of effort to take care of, but the hair on our faces does as well. Being coarse and curled, our hair is highly susceptible to a condition known as 'pseudofolliculitis barbae', which is more commonly known as 'ingrown hairs' or 'razor bumps'. There is really no efficient way to treat this condition except to stop shaving, shave less closely, or have laser surgery performed. Otherwise, we have to resort to means of hiding the condition (ie. cosmetics) and taking anti-inflammation medicine to treat the dermatitis.

Hopefully this post will enlighten some of you who have expressed confusion over the care and treatment of black hair. It is a very difficult task, and I hope you will walk away with a newfound appreciation for our lifelong struggle with uniquely coarse and curly hair.

Fresh cut!

Sigh of Relief

The Day has come and gone.

Without sorrow.
Without pity.
Without confusion.
Without anger.
Without awkwardness.
Without alienation.
Without disagreement.
Without condescension.
Without discomfort.

And most importantly, without regret.

(More to come)