I just finished reading Craig Thompson's Carnet de Voyage, it was a journal comic and sketchbook he wrote over a 2 month period when he was on a comic tour and vacation in 2004. At the end of the book he talks about why he did it. He talks about his motivation to draw it and his trepidation about selling his sketches and a journal. It made me think about why I like reading diaries and journal comics, and why I did my own journal comic.
I am a nosy person. In the past I've gone through bathroom cabinets, purses, wallets, bags, pockets, rooms, cellphones, anything. I'm curious about other people. The things people keep in their wallets, the stories the items tell and the explanations their owners give. Items in a way, tell what someone finds important. IN my own wallet right now I have one dollar, my campus ID, my driver's license, my bank card, a membership card for Local Heroes, my social security card, a copy of my savings and checking account numbers, insurance cards, an expired bank card and a few other scraps. The sweatshirt I wore today has my wallet, phone, cigarettes, two lighters, two pens, scraps of paper, some garbage, and pain killers, it had my laptop and mp3 player in it earlier. My bag has ball point pens, inking pens, mechanical pencils, a set of Derwitt drawing pencils, two sketchbooks, two novels, one comic, hand lotion, some candy and probably garbage and loose pain killers.
Those items tell you I enjoy drawing, reading, I smoke, I don't remember my banking numbers, I like comics, I either don't carry cash or I have no cash. That's a lot of things to learn from not talking to me and just going through my things. I think that's why on dA the room meme or bag meme goes on, people are interested in what people keep with them. On formspring I've gotten the question 'what's in your pocket right now' a few times, people are curious about what people keep with them. I think that why I enjoy reading journals and diary comics, to see how others live.
As I was reading Carnet I was thinking about how I'd draw a different journal comic than 100 Days, I want to do another one at some point, maybe this spring. I've been thinking about limiting it to interesting events, but anything can come up, I don't know yet.
Carnet was interesting because of how personal it is. On the last page when Thompson is talking about why he did it, even with the pressure from his publisher, a friend told him he should draw it for himself. I went that route with 100 Days, but I think I may try something different with the last 50 or so pages that I haven't finished yet, in a way make them more personal, even though some days get incredibly personal. I don't know, I might save those ideas for another journal comic.
Some other Internet journal comics I've enjoyed are Dar, Ellerbisms, The Everyday, Journalin' Comix, Johnny Wander, Kid with Experience, Little Gamers, So Far Apart, Three Panel Soul and I'm sure I've got others I'm forgetting. Some published autobio comics I've enjoyed are Will Eisner's work, Blankets, Spent, Too Cool To Be Forgotten, Persepolis, Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic, and all the ones I can't see from my perch on my bed. Some biographies and published journals I've enjoyed are David Carradine's Kill Bill Diary, Room Full of Mirrors, everything I've read by Jonathan Ames, and as before, what I can't see form my perch on my bed. I really like being able to peek in at different people's lives, see how they live, what's important to them and how they change over time.
I think part of that was my motivation for 100 Days, to be able to look back at what my life was for a summer when I was 21. To see times when I was happy, what I enjoyed doing, watching, reading and then being able to reflect on things. Even now I find it enjoyable to look at what I did only three months ago, some of these pages I haven't seen in months so I've forgotten what I did, how I felt. Sometimes I get swept away by my own emotions, falling into a mild depression because of what I did that day or remembering happy days. It's been interesting and good I think. I don't regret drawing this out, I don't regret posting it online, I don't really regret anything I said there either. I do have a moleskin sketchbook/journal that's a larger format waiting for something to be put in it, I might use that for my next one. We'll see. Maybe I'll have a reason to start it earlier.
Jasmine P.
Showing posts with label experiences. Show all posts
Showing posts with label experiences. Show all posts
November 4, 2010
June 30, 2010
My Past 24 Hours: A Hellish Roller Coaster
Yesterday I spent about...4 hours watching the first two series of Black Books which was created by Graham Linham and Dylan Moran. It's a fantastically awesome series about three misanthropes. Bernard Black run Black Books, a used bookstore; Manny goes bonkers and starts working there and Bernard's friend Fran spends a lot of time hanging out in the shop. They live drinking, smoking and being all around ridiculous. The characters remind me a bit of a British It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia at times, the humor isn't as dry as some British comedies can be. It made yesterday pretty damn awesome as I started sinking into being depressed.
Speaking of being depressed...I went to counseling yesterday morning, like most Tuesdays. Prior to I did that stupid thing where I sleep for four hours. Seriously, I think it's a retarded side effect from quitting smoking. I don't know, it's really friggin' annoying. I woke up at 6, I was able to get back to sleep, but being awake was not plesant. It's not like I didn't feel rested, but I know me and I know my habits so I don't understand why I keep waking up after only four hours of sleep.
In councling I spoke about what's gone on over the past week including going to a festival this past Friday and going to a youth church thing. I can appreciate where the group is coming from by using rap to make the youth feel closer to the message [it was a predominantly black church group] but I don't agree. It sounded mostly like hardcore rap which seems a little counterproductive. What I mean is, if it sounds like gangster, shoot-'em-up rap and you can't understand what's being said, how do they know the message they intended got across to the youth? If you look at my track record of music habits I'm across the board, except for hardcore rap. I never liked that sound, it has never been pleasing to my ears so I was judgemental. If you remember my earlier blogs about my opinion of religion I was already going in judging. I tried to get with it but I couldn't. When the speaker got up on stage to preach I was more or less fine with the message. He spoke about not giving up because something is too hard. That's the Devil's work getting you off your proper path. That I could get behind. I could not agree with his use of a cancer analogy.
For the newcomers, my mother died from cancer. I don't like talking about cancer in that ambiguous manner that if someone died from it, they gave up. Bull-fucking-shit. My family and I never 'gave up hope' we held out candle for my mother the entire time she was ill. We prayed, our church prayed, her co-workers prayed. She's now on a prayer list or something with some church, still. People have not forgotten us. There were a lot of people who didn't give up praying for her. The doctors did the best the could and ended up trying to keep her pain manageable. She died because of science. Why do I not want to accept it as God's will? I'll tell you. I don't want to accept it as God's will because I still needed her. I still need her.
I have met a lot of people who care, who will give me advice and help me should I ask, and even if I don't ask all the time. That's all well and dandy but my mother is still dead. It's not the same. If God cared about me than why did she need to die? So I could grow up? What's going to happen in my life that I couldn't stay naive for a few months longer, a few years longer.
Why did she have to die, science can explain. The massive amounts of chemicals in her system took their toll on her body, it could not take it anymore. Her kidney's stopped flushing water from her blood; her lungs deteriorated from pneumonia getting a hold of her chemotherapy weakened system and her body was too far deceased and disconnected to continue. Her body knew it was time, it tried to keep up but it couldn't repair itself fast enough. The thought that biology happened, that it's the natural order of life and death, that all living things die at some point made me feel better than saying 'God wanted her to come home.' Science gives me answers. I believe in science. I believe in some deity getting things started and is now sitting back or just plain gone and this world continues circling that fucking star. Science has yet to give us all the answers. I can accept that. I mean, if the universe started from the 'Big Bang' where did the elements come from for that initial beginning? If they came from an even earlier universe, what happened to that one? And where did that one come from?
We don't know, so I believe in science as far as it can give me an educated answer. It might all be wrong but it makes enough sense and seems plausible enough for me.
I left counseling this morning with my counselor asking me to detail how I felt as my mother was sick, when she died and after. Thankfully I have so many damn blogs and journals it's kind of like aggregating it and maybe writing something new, or taking this. Not too sure yet.
I left counseling and killed some time until I went out to Jerry's Art-Arama to get supplies for my color theory class. I spent $184 to get my supplies, giant 19X24 bristol, color aid, pencils, triangle, compass and a shit ton of 'other'. I did get to save abut $20, my friend who is now dropping the class, is letting me borrow some things for the duration which is pretty sweet.
Now, the trip back from Jerry's, which is out in Virginia Beach was an interesting and highly irritating one. Remember how I said I was slipping into depression last night? Well it reared it's bastardly ugly head. Fucking bastard. People's driving was irritating me and my friend tried to give me some advice on how to deal with it. It didn't help. I was in the middle of being depressed, being told just about anything does not help. We were stuck in traffic because of an accident on 64 and people just kept irritating me. My friend couldn't placate me and was actually counter productive. When I cry I don't want to be told it's fine to cry, I like rationalizing things out. I like words, I like taking the elusive and explaining it to the best of my ability. Why? It focuses me. It keeps me in control. I like being in control.
That's not to say I don't let myself go and go with the flow of things. I have been stepping out of my box, out f my comfort zone for a while, trying new things. At the festival I tried crawfish, I went back to a church for the first time in three years, I've gone out with people I don't know. I have no problem feeling joy, happiness, bliss, anger, irritation, depression. I feel, I like feeling with words. Tears do nothing. No, crying doesn't make me feel better, I hate crying, I hate it when I cry, it's like I've lost control in an unpleasant way. Science on wikipedia gives me a few answers but not much is going on right now to really prompt this. It's irritating and I really can't stand crying.
And looking at that and knowing me I can now predict a few things. As I said yesterday I knew I was getting depressed. As I cried I said I was feeling depressed. I've written more journals in the past few weeks than I have in a while. Writing is one of the things I do when I'm depressed, I'm trying to put my feelings into words, trying to work through it. Writing about any thing that comes to mind. [Yes, I want 'any' and 'thing' to be separate words]. I've been depressed and I'm PMS-ing. I'm not as hard up about candy unless I'm pms-ing, and I want peanut butter. It was never chocolate for me, always peanut butter. At the moment it's peanut butter M&Ms, yeah there's chocolate, but it's about the peanut butter. It's usually Reese's Pieces, I know these things.
So I'm in my car, trapped in my traffic, in the Virginia heat [with A/C], and I'm crying and depressed. My friend it telling me it's fine. It's not fine. It's never fine when I cry. Very few of my friends have seen me cry and it's always when I can't put my frustrations into words.
I hate crying. Period.
I dropped him off, came home, and made a 16 oz Cosmopolitan in a water-bottle. I downed it in an hour and rolled around on my bed drunk and doing nothing on the internet until I decided to see Toy Story 3. I have been thinking about not seeing it, but in the long run I had to. It was awesome. I didn't like that the three trailer's before the movie were for 3D flicks, I saw Toy Store in classic 2D and these trailers seemed like those movies weren't going to be distributed in 2D, I assume they will be but we'll see. One of these days on my movie blog I'll put up my opinion about 3D and elaborate on my distaste for it. And if you pop over to my movie blog, you can see my opinion on making pseudo 3D/CGI animated films, as critiqued by the Smurfs movie slated for next year. I also have some ideas about photo-realism, which can fit into that blog but will get it's own, because that owl movie looks creepy (it had human eyes..wtf?!? -ovular-). But, I don't like barn owls, their faces are disturbingly flat, and the movie seems to 'star' a barn owl. Joy. Or it's a masked owl...I don't like the flatter faces. The other things I noticed in the trailers is that there are two animated movies for this summer/fall that seem like they're supposed to be sympathetic to villains. The Will Ferrel one, Mastermind or whatever (...'it's BIG for a reason'...great, penis envy jokes); and the Steve Carell one, Despicable Me (reading this plot, this seems weak. I like the beginning idea, but where it goes, not as much). I think the trailer could be made stronger if the minion characters said the word right, instead of tailoring it to kids, if they broke it down on the screen for the kid to learn the damn word and not having the minion stumble on the word then having the announcer say it correctly.
So, Toy Story 3, fantastic. It was also hella depressing. It was also hella brilliant. I loved the toys that were there in the the day care, I loved how things played out. It was all really well written an animated. I don't want to spoil much, but I do with that more had been done with Bonnie's toys, they were awesome. And great voices all around. I could have gone with the Spanish Buzz joke, it went on a bit too long for me and seemed to be a little contrived, but outside of that bit of nit picking I enjoyed everything. It was written on a kid's level, but was great for adults without it needing to be vulgar, a la Shrek.
Yeah...I came back home and wrote all this out. It's taken me a bit more than an hour. So today was a roller coaster of hell, kind of. But I feel better now that I've written..something! See, crying doesn't help, words do!
Jasmine P.
Speaking of being depressed...I went to counseling yesterday morning, like most Tuesdays. Prior to I did that stupid thing where I sleep for four hours. Seriously, I think it's a retarded side effect from quitting smoking. I don't know, it's really friggin' annoying. I woke up at 6, I was able to get back to sleep, but being awake was not plesant. It's not like I didn't feel rested, but I know me and I know my habits so I don't understand why I keep waking up after only four hours of sleep.
In councling I spoke about what's gone on over the past week including going to a festival this past Friday and going to a youth church thing. I can appreciate where the group is coming from by using rap to make the youth feel closer to the message [it was a predominantly black church group] but I don't agree. It sounded mostly like hardcore rap which seems a little counterproductive. What I mean is, if it sounds like gangster, shoot-'em-up rap and you can't understand what's being said, how do they know the message they intended got across to the youth? If you look at my track record of music habits I'm across the board, except for hardcore rap. I never liked that sound, it has never been pleasing to my ears so I was judgemental. If you remember my earlier blogs about my opinion of religion I was already going in judging. I tried to get with it but I couldn't. When the speaker got up on stage to preach I was more or less fine with the message. He spoke about not giving up because something is too hard. That's the Devil's work getting you off your proper path. That I could get behind. I could not agree with his use of a cancer analogy.
For the newcomers, my mother died from cancer. I don't like talking about cancer in that ambiguous manner that if someone died from it, they gave up. Bull-fucking-shit. My family and I never 'gave up hope' we held out candle for my mother the entire time she was ill. We prayed, our church prayed, her co-workers prayed. She's now on a prayer list or something with some church, still. People have not forgotten us. There were a lot of people who didn't give up praying for her. The doctors did the best the could and ended up trying to keep her pain manageable. She died because of science. Why do I not want to accept it as God's will? I'll tell you. I don't want to accept it as God's will because I still needed her. I still need her.
I have met a lot of people who care, who will give me advice and help me should I ask, and even if I don't ask all the time. That's all well and dandy but my mother is still dead. It's not the same. If God cared about me than why did she need to die? So I could grow up? What's going to happen in my life that I couldn't stay naive for a few months longer, a few years longer.
Why did she have to die, science can explain. The massive amounts of chemicals in her system took their toll on her body, it could not take it anymore. Her kidney's stopped flushing water from her blood; her lungs deteriorated from pneumonia getting a hold of her chemotherapy weakened system and her body was too far deceased and disconnected to continue. Her body knew it was time, it tried to keep up but it couldn't repair itself fast enough. The thought that biology happened, that it's the natural order of life and death, that all living things die at some point made me feel better than saying 'God wanted her to come home.' Science gives me answers. I believe in science. I believe in some deity getting things started and is now sitting back or just plain gone and this world continues circling that fucking star. Science has yet to give us all the answers. I can accept that. I mean, if the universe started from the 'Big Bang' where did the elements come from for that initial beginning? If they came from an even earlier universe, what happened to that one? And where did that one come from?
We don't know, so I believe in science as far as it can give me an educated answer. It might all be wrong but it makes enough sense and seems plausible enough for me.
I left counseling this morning with my counselor asking me to detail how I felt as my mother was sick, when she died and after. Thankfully I have so many damn blogs and journals it's kind of like aggregating it and maybe writing something new, or taking this. Not too sure yet.
I left counseling and killed some time until I went out to Jerry's Art-Arama to get supplies for my color theory class. I spent $184 to get my supplies, giant 19X24 bristol, color aid, pencils, triangle, compass and a shit ton of 'other'. I did get to save abut $20, my friend who is now dropping the class, is letting me borrow some things for the duration which is pretty sweet.
Now, the trip back from Jerry's, which is out in Virginia Beach was an interesting and highly irritating one. Remember how I said I was slipping into depression last night? Well it reared it's bastardly ugly head. Fucking bastard. People's driving was irritating me and my friend tried to give me some advice on how to deal with it. It didn't help. I was in the middle of being depressed, being told just about anything does not help. We were stuck in traffic because of an accident on 64 and people just kept irritating me. My friend couldn't placate me and was actually counter productive. When I cry I don't want to be told it's fine to cry, I like rationalizing things out. I like words, I like taking the elusive and explaining it to the best of my ability. Why? It focuses me. It keeps me in control. I like being in control.
That's not to say I don't let myself go and go with the flow of things. I have been stepping out of my box, out f my comfort zone for a while, trying new things. At the festival I tried crawfish, I went back to a church for the first time in three years, I've gone out with people I don't know. I have no problem feeling joy, happiness, bliss, anger, irritation, depression. I feel, I like feeling with words. Tears do nothing. No, crying doesn't make me feel better, I hate crying, I hate it when I cry, it's like I've lost control in an unpleasant way. Science on wikipedia gives me a few answers but not much is going on right now to really prompt this. It's irritating and I really can't stand crying.
And looking at that and knowing me I can now predict a few things. As I said yesterday I knew I was getting depressed. As I cried I said I was feeling depressed. I've written more journals in the past few weeks than I have in a while. Writing is one of the things I do when I'm depressed, I'm trying to put my feelings into words, trying to work through it. Writing about any thing that comes to mind. [Yes, I want 'any' and 'thing' to be separate words]. I've been depressed and I'm PMS-ing. I'm not as hard up about candy unless I'm pms-ing, and I want peanut butter. It was never chocolate for me, always peanut butter. At the moment it's peanut butter M&Ms, yeah there's chocolate, but it's about the peanut butter. It's usually Reese's Pieces, I know these things.
So I'm in my car, trapped in my traffic, in the Virginia heat [with A/C], and I'm crying and depressed. My friend it telling me it's fine. It's not fine. It's never fine when I cry. Very few of my friends have seen me cry and it's always when I can't put my frustrations into words.
I hate crying. Period.
I dropped him off, came home, and made a 16 oz Cosmopolitan in a water-bottle. I downed it in an hour and rolled around on my bed drunk and doing nothing on the internet until I decided to see Toy Story 3. I have been thinking about not seeing it, but in the long run I had to. It was awesome. I didn't like that the three trailer's before the movie were for 3D flicks, I saw Toy Store in classic 2D and these trailers seemed like those movies weren't going to be distributed in 2D, I assume they will be but we'll see. One of these days on my movie blog I'll put up my opinion about 3D and elaborate on my distaste for it. And if you pop over to my movie blog, you can see my opinion on making pseudo 3D/CGI animated films, as critiqued by the Smurfs movie slated for next year. I also have some ideas about photo-realism, which can fit into that blog but will get it's own, because that owl movie looks creepy (it had human eyes..wtf?!? -ovular-). But, I don't like barn owls, their faces are disturbingly flat, and the movie seems to 'star' a barn owl. Joy. Or it's a masked owl...I don't like the flatter faces. The other things I noticed in the trailers is that there are two animated movies for this summer/fall that seem like they're supposed to be sympathetic to villains. The Will Ferrel one, Mastermind or whatever (...'it's BIG for a reason'...great, penis envy jokes); and the Steve Carell one, Despicable Me (reading this plot, this seems weak. I like the beginning idea, but where it goes, not as much). I think the trailer could be made stronger if the minion characters said the word right, instead of tailoring it to kids, if they broke it down on the screen for the kid to learn the damn word and not having the minion stumble on the word then having the announcer say it correctly.
So, Toy Story 3, fantastic. It was also hella depressing. It was also hella brilliant. I loved the toys that were there in the the day care, I loved how things played out. It was all really well written an animated. I don't want to spoil much, but I do with that more had been done with Bonnie's toys, they were awesome. And great voices all around. I could have gone with the Spanish Buzz joke, it went on a bit too long for me and seemed to be a little contrived, but outside of that bit of nit picking I enjoyed everything. It was written on a kid's level, but was great for adults without it needing to be vulgar, a la Shrek.
Yeah...I came back home and wrote all this out. It's taken me a bit more than an hour. So today was a roller coaster of hell, kind of. But I feel better now that I've written..something! See, crying doesn't help, words do!
Jasmine P.
August 16, 2009
Touched By a Book
This is not the first nor will it be the last time that I write about how a book I've read has affected me. One of the last was A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints by Dito Montiel. Before That I wrote about how Hells Angels: The Strange and Terrible Saga by Hunter S. Thompson affected me, I think more how aspects of his writing had made me think because I know I have referenced the Wave Speech from F&L in Las Vegas.
The new book, the new story, is that of one police officer Mr. Frank Serpico. At this time his name is mostly tied to the film where Al Pacino did a fantastic job of dealing with the stress and difficulties that the real man had to deal with only a few years prior. I watched the movie and fell in love. While reading the book, some things were pulled straight from it, and the tapes that the real Serpico made during these trying times, so it was easy to transpose the film into the book. They were one in the same, but they are also wholly separate entities. The book, like any book, was able to cover more details about what Serpico had to deal with and more instances of his altruism were shared with the audience. There were more chances to see how and why he'd become disenfranchised with his job. Reading about is temper, I could only think of Pacino blowing up and just how well the actor fit the part.
There are a few things the book made me consider. First it made me consider what makes a truly good person. I like to think I'm alright, but I have severe doubts that I could do anything that Serpico did. I'd probably turn a blind eye to the corruption in the precincts. I'd probably accept my share; maybe use it, maybe save it up. I'm not sure, but I couldn't deal with the pressure he lived it, and I don't think I could deal with it for as long as he did. He had conviction that what he was doing was right, that it made a difference. It did. More than thirty years after the fact it brought to light what was going on inside precincts and just how corrupt the system is. Every yea we hear about some short comings, but they're never as extensive as what Frank Serpico's story shared with readers and viewers. They're also not as gripping, they weren't as ground breaking. It's interesting to think about just how different things are; it's also a little bit disgusting to see what was going on inside the heads of these people. The police officers, not the people they were booking. How the officers thought, that black people cried rape after it was wanted, shaking down people because of their race. The racism, it's painful to read. I know it still exists, but sometimes I like to stay in my little bubble where those things don't happen, where people look past the color of one's skin and onto the more important parts about them.
Reading the book I wanted to see again just what Frank Serpico had to deal with. His own moralistic hell. People not helping him because he was classified as a hippie. I know people brake off into groups based on their appearance, but it's still a bit bothersome. How many times he was shot at or harassed because he actually looked like he didn't belong to the NYPD, the point since he was undercover. He had to not look like a cop to be a cop. The separation between him and the other officer was insane. I'd say unreal, but it was real. We have the news papers to tell us the truth of what happened, the reporting. A lot of it's there, just waiting to be read.
Something this book did for me was make me consider about my few interactions with people of the Badge or Shield. I have apprehension every time I see a cop that I'm going to get pulled over for something, that I'm doing something wrong. I could be walking down the street to class and I wonder about a cop stopping to ask me a question. I worry about being pulled over again. After first being pulled over last year, that's what I think of. I know he's doing his job, but I was fucking terrified. I then think of when I was out in Wisconsin and I needed some stamps that some officers in the blue and white about to go and police something helped me. I asked them where I could find some stamps, they gave me a name and general direction and I found a grocery store. Something little that helped me out.
That little instance of the cops in Wisconsin helping me makes me think simple of Serpico, or a bit of the other way around. I needed help, sought it in the police, and things were fine. They didn't talk down t me; they expressed confusion, but were willing to help me on my quest for stamps. That makes me think I should be a little less apprehensive the next time I'm outside leaning against my car for a smoke. What I'm saying is that the story of Frank Serpico reminds me that cops are good. They can be trusted, and they accomplish more than pulling people over and arresting criminals. That's important, but giving the public a sense of safety ad well being by helping them on their way can be just as useful It improves the public image, and possible starts competition between the officers to perform more little good deeds.
This story kind of makes me want to try harder as a human to help my fellow person. Should I be able to help someone with a quick phone call-that would be fantastic.
Jasmine P.
The new book, the new story, is that of one police officer Mr. Frank Serpico. At this time his name is mostly tied to the film where Al Pacino did a fantastic job of dealing with the stress and difficulties that the real man had to deal with only a few years prior. I watched the movie and fell in love. While reading the book, some things were pulled straight from it, and the tapes that the real Serpico made during these trying times, so it was easy to transpose the film into the book. They were one in the same, but they are also wholly separate entities. The book, like any book, was able to cover more details about what Serpico had to deal with and more instances of his altruism were shared with the audience. There were more chances to see how and why he'd become disenfranchised with his job. Reading about is temper, I could only think of Pacino blowing up and just how well the actor fit the part.
There are a few things the book made me consider. First it made me consider what makes a truly good person. I like to think I'm alright, but I have severe doubts that I could do anything that Serpico did. I'd probably turn a blind eye to the corruption in the precincts. I'd probably accept my share; maybe use it, maybe save it up. I'm not sure, but I couldn't deal with the pressure he lived it, and I don't think I could deal with it for as long as he did. He had conviction that what he was doing was right, that it made a difference. It did. More than thirty years after the fact it brought to light what was going on inside precincts and just how corrupt the system is. Every yea we hear about some short comings, but they're never as extensive as what Frank Serpico's story shared with readers and viewers. They're also not as gripping, they weren't as ground breaking. It's interesting to think about just how different things are; it's also a little bit disgusting to see what was going on inside the heads of these people. The police officers, not the people they were booking. How the officers thought, that black people cried rape after it was wanted, shaking down people because of their race. The racism, it's painful to read. I know it still exists, but sometimes I like to stay in my little bubble where those things don't happen, where people look past the color of one's skin and onto the more important parts about them.
Reading the book I wanted to see again just what Frank Serpico had to deal with. His own moralistic hell. People not helping him because he was classified as a hippie. I know people brake off into groups based on their appearance, but it's still a bit bothersome. How many times he was shot at or harassed because he actually looked like he didn't belong to the NYPD, the point since he was undercover. He had to not look like a cop to be a cop. The separation between him and the other officer was insane. I'd say unreal, but it was real. We have the news papers to tell us the truth of what happened, the reporting. A lot of it's there, just waiting to be read.
Something this book did for me was make me consider about my few interactions with people of the Badge or Shield. I have apprehension every time I see a cop that I'm going to get pulled over for something, that I'm doing something wrong. I could be walking down the street to class and I wonder about a cop stopping to ask me a question. I worry about being pulled over again. After first being pulled over last year, that's what I think of. I know he's doing his job, but I was fucking terrified. I then think of when I was out in Wisconsin and I needed some stamps that some officers in the blue and white about to go and police something helped me. I asked them where I could find some stamps, they gave me a name and general direction and I found a grocery store. Something little that helped me out.
That little instance of the cops in Wisconsin helping me makes me think simple of Serpico, or a bit of the other way around. I needed help, sought it in the police, and things were fine. They didn't talk down t me; they expressed confusion, but were willing to help me on my quest for stamps. That makes me think I should be a little less apprehensive the next time I'm outside leaning against my car for a smoke. What I'm saying is that the story of Frank Serpico reminds me that cops are good. They can be trusted, and they accomplish more than pulling people over and arresting criminals. That's important, but giving the public a sense of safety ad well being by helping them on their way can be just as useful It improves the public image, and possible starts competition between the officers to perform more little good deeds.
This story kind of makes me want to try harder as a human to help my fellow person. Should I be able to help someone with a quick phone call-that would be fantastic.
Jasmine P.
July 7, 2009
Wanderin' 'Round Wisconsin
Monday.
I'm up around6 so i can take my time-ish, getting ready, bandages are still hell. I wake up Janelle when proceed downstairs and across a covered walkway, and around to the convention center. I meet Ralph and Scott P. and Alani, some of the metors. Ralph hadn't been at the thing on Sunday, so I think I was the first mentee to meet him. I then actually get into the introductory plenary session that's to get the ball rolling on everything. The introduction is fine, but the speaker, some woman who's presenting some information about Wisconsin wetlands. The woman was a horrible speaker. Now, I can't remember what I disliked about it, but I ws not enjoying listening to her, so I stepped out a minute earlier than the session ended.
There was some time before the first mentor-mentee thing that frank had set up for us, so I bought some terrible coffee from the hotel. Mein gott, it was bad, burnt to high hell. Waste of money. The session the mentors had for us was specifically about being a minority and getting minorites interested in the sciences. It was interesting enough. I had a short conversation with one of the speakers after this, but I'll get to that.
That session broke and we were free for lunch and whatever else we felt like doing. There's a rumor of free sandwiches upstairs, so I get one, then leave the other girls and wander back downstairs. In the convention center I run into the mentors, Kellen and Jennifer. The mentors and presenters were heading out for lunch, so I lead the group to the Great Dane, the third time there in as many days.
This time we're seated outside. I'm situated between Ralph [i think] and Dwayne, one of the speakers. Ken is there, Alani, one of the other speakers, Frank, I think both Scotts. I hve a grilled cheese sammich and some fresh vegetables. The conversation started about what the speakers had to say. I think I mostly listened. Can't remember it all. It was a fine lunch. We had back to the convention. I pop into a few more sessions before going up to the room to relax and change before the Student Mixer on the roof of the Convention Center. I see some fucked up shit on the news then go to the mixer itself. The food is alright. I eat enough for it to be my dinner.
I leave the mixer because it's hot as hell, and go back to the room. I stay there for a bit, then want to wander down state street, but not alone, so I go back to the roof of the CC and find some people there. I decide on ice cream, and the Scotts, Alani, Chelsea and I think Janediy leave with me, thinking ice cream would also be good. As we're walking I start explaining to Scott L., Chelsea and Janadiy the awesomeness of fencing, then we realize that Scott P. and Alani are lagging. We all stop and wait for them, then Alani tells us something bad has happened. By the end of the week I've pieced together that her mother got ill, well that's my assumption. We're all kind of down for a moment, and I point out a lady bug in Janadiy's hair. We've had a moment of silence, not knowing what to say, and this ladybug and the rest of the walk are a small reprieve for Alani. We all continue to a locally owned place in the middle of State St.
Scott L. ducks out because he needs to catch the tram back to his hotel, but Alani, Scott P. and Janadiy continue walking with me to the Walgreens down the hill. I'm in need of tape because I forgot to topp it into my bag before flying out. Tape and some edibles it's back up the hill to the hotel. It's late now, around 11 or something. I retire to my room and relax with the internet before going to bed.
Tuesday
I spend my morning on the internet, not wanting to go to see any of the speakers. I finally leave the room because of a session with the mentors. This is an interesting affair and it's treated as a dialogue between the mentors and us undergraduates. I can't remember what I did between this and the evening dinner. I remember, I sat in on parts of sessions. One I had to leave because the girl was so nervous that I couldn't stand listening to her. I felt bad for her. She knew her information, but was incredibly uncomfortable speaking in front of a crowd. I think I popped in and out of presentations until sitting in the hallway and chatting with people. Today was the first day of poster presentations. I didn't have one, but I did mingle and look at other people's posters.
The dinner was alright. Chicken something or other. The speaker was much better than I'd previously thought. He was a journalist and wrote a book based off of research about treaties and such in relation to the Great Lakes. How it was diverged and what not. Pretty damn interesting.
After dinner most of us undergrads went out down State Street. This night we shop together a little, I think, then hit a bar that cards me and lets me in. I end up buying a bunch of $1 drinks because it was easier than trying to think of mixed drinks to order, and lot cheaper. We leave this one after some time, and go into a second one. I don't feel like staying, and walk back on my own. This is the night my walk took forever. I stop and pee in a Greek place, and make it back to the hotel safely. I crash, it's going on 2am I think.
Wednesday
I get up early, proving to Nakoa and Freddy that I'm not so lazy as to no go to some speakers. I can't remember what I sat in on, but I go to a few. Needing caffeine I buy a espresso from the hotel. I should have learned my lesson from the day before, but apparently I hadn't. Hmm, today there's the luncheon for the mentors and mentees and that's pretty chill. Sandwiches, soup, a potato salad. The food was right tasty. The conversation amusing.
After lunch I hang out in the hallway waiting for the second career session to start. I chat with some people and pop in and out of sessions for a bit. I also collect some swag from the exhibition hall. I go to the afternoon career session. This one is much more formal than the one from the day before was. I was also really tired an started dozing. I felt a little bad about that.
I head off on my own for dinner. It's one of those days I get after being around people for too long. I need to be alone, so I go to eat alone. I'm sorely mistaken when I get back to the room. Janelle and Jennifer are up there. I grab my books, the Ames one and Public Enemies, and head downstairs. I get a glass of cranberry juice from the bar. They're nice and give it to me for free. I just sit and read for a while. Enjoying being on my own for an hour or two. It's pleasant. I'm tired, it's about midnight, so I go back upstairs, but Jennifer is still there. I'm fighting my antisocial urge of being rude and chat with the two of them before finally going to sleep.
Jasmine P.
I'm up around6 so i can take my time-ish, getting ready, bandages are still hell. I wake up Janelle when proceed downstairs and across a covered walkway, and around to the convention center. I meet Ralph and Scott P. and Alani, some of the metors. Ralph hadn't been at the thing on Sunday, so I think I was the first mentee to meet him. I then actually get into the introductory plenary session that's to get the ball rolling on everything. The introduction is fine, but the speaker, some woman who's presenting some information about Wisconsin wetlands. The woman was a horrible speaker. Now, I can't remember what I disliked about it, but I ws not enjoying listening to her, so I stepped out a minute earlier than the session ended.
There was some time before the first mentor-mentee thing that frank had set up for us, so I bought some terrible coffee from the hotel. Mein gott, it was bad, burnt to high hell. Waste of money. The session the mentors had for us was specifically about being a minority and getting minorites interested in the sciences. It was interesting enough. I had a short conversation with one of the speakers after this, but I'll get to that.
That session broke and we were free for lunch and whatever else we felt like doing. There's a rumor of free sandwiches upstairs, so I get one, then leave the other girls and wander back downstairs. In the convention center I run into the mentors, Kellen and Jennifer. The mentors and presenters were heading out for lunch, so I lead the group to the Great Dane, the third time there in as many days.
This time we're seated outside. I'm situated between Ralph [i think] and Dwayne, one of the speakers. Ken is there, Alani, one of the other speakers, Frank, I think both Scotts. I hve a grilled cheese sammich and some fresh vegetables. The conversation started about what the speakers had to say. I think I mostly listened. Can't remember it all. It was a fine lunch. We had back to the convention. I pop into a few more sessions before going up to the room to relax and change before the Student Mixer on the roof of the Convention Center. I see some fucked up shit on the news then go to the mixer itself. The food is alright. I eat enough for it to be my dinner.
I leave the mixer because it's hot as hell, and go back to the room. I stay there for a bit, then want to wander down state street, but not alone, so I go back to the roof of the CC and find some people there. I decide on ice cream, and the Scotts, Alani, Chelsea and I think Janediy leave with me, thinking ice cream would also be good. As we're walking I start explaining to Scott L., Chelsea and Janadiy the awesomeness of fencing, then we realize that Scott P. and Alani are lagging. We all stop and wait for them, then Alani tells us something bad has happened. By the end of the week I've pieced together that her mother got ill, well that's my assumption. We're all kind of down for a moment, and I point out a lady bug in Janadiy's hair. We've had a moment of silence, not knowing what to say, and this ladybug and the rest of the walk are a small reprieve for Alani. We all continue to a locally owned place in the middle of State St.
Scott L. ducks out because he needs to catch the tram back to his hotel, but Alani, Scott P. and Janadiy continue walking with me to the Walgreens down the hill. I'm in need of tape because I forgot to topp it into my bag before flying out. Tape and some edibles it's back up the hill to the hotel. It's late now, around 11 or something. I retire to my room and relax with the internet before going to bed.
Tuesday
I spend my morning on the internet, not wanting to go to see any of the speakers. I finally leave the room because of a session with the mentors. This is an interesting affair and it's treated as a dialogue between the mentors and us undergraduates. I can't remember what I did between this and the evening dinner. I remember, I sat in on parts of sessions. One I had to leave because the girl was so nervous that I couldn't stand listening to her. I felt bad for her. She knew her information, but was incredibly uncomfortable speaking in front of a crowd. I think I popped in and out of presentations until sitting in the hallway and chatting with people. Today was the first day of poster presentations. I didn't have one, but I did mingle and look at other people's posters.
The dinner was alright. Chicken something or other. The speaker was much better than I'd previously thought. He was a journalist and wrote a book based off of research about treaties and such in relation to the Great Lakes. How it was diverged and what not. Pretty damn interesting.
After dinner most of us undergrads went out down State Street. This night we shop together a little, I think, then hit a bar that cards me and lets me in. I end up buying a bunch of $1 drinks because it was easier than trying to think of mixed drinks to order, and lot cheaper. We leave this one after some time, and go into a second one. I don't feel like staying, and walk back on my own. This is the night my walk took forever. I stop and pee in a Greek place, and make it back to the hotel safely. I crash, it's going on 2am I think.
Wednesday
I get up early, proving to Nakoa and Freddy that I'm not so lazy as to no go to some speakers. I can't remember what I sat in on, but I go to a few. Needing caffeine I buy a espresso from the hotel. I should have learned my lesson from the day before, but apparently I hadn't. Hmm, today there's the luncheon for the mentors and mentees and that's pretty chill. Sandwiches, soup, a potato salad. The food was right tasty. The conversation amusing.
After lunch I hang out in the hallway waiting for the second career session to start. I chat with some people and pop in and out of sessions for a bit. I also collect some swag from the exhibition hall. I go to the afternoon career session. This one is much more formal than the one from the day before was. I was also really tired an started dozing. I felt a little bad about that.
I head off on my own for dinner. It's one of those days I get after being around people for too long. I need to be alone, so I go to eat alone. I'm sorely mistaken when I get back to the room. Janelle and Jennifer are up there. I grab my books, the Ames one and Public Enemies, and head downstairs. I get a glass of cranberry juice from the bar. They're nice and give it to me for free. I just sit and read for a while. Enjoying being on my own for an hour or two. It's pleasant. I'm tired, it's about midnight, so I go back upstairs, but Jennifer is still there. I'm fighting my antisocial urge of being rude and chat with the two of them before finally going to sleep.
Jasmine P.
July 3, 2009
Wildin' Out in Wisconsin
After regaling the Ficus with tales of Wisconsin, I think I might hop to and get started on writing about that week before it gets too far away from me. From the other entry, before my heartbroken and voyeuristic rant, I left off from the night before leaving for Madison, WI.
After sobering up and waiting for my flight, between Norfolk and Detroit was uneventful. There was that weird bitch who wanted to wait in a longer line, but that was before the flight. I had an aisle seat which was pretty chill. I stayed awake the entire time and read through my new Esquire after I finished the SMod I'd been listening to. In Detroit I was originally worried about not being able to find my next terminal, but they were damn near side by side. from A-2 to A-7, so I grabbed an overpriced sandwich from Quiznos because it had been 12+ hours since my previous meal. I chilled and hopped onto my second flight. This time I was closer to the front of the plane, still in the aisle, and this plane was only 5 seats across, unlike the first which was 6.
In Wisconsin there was some trouble at the airport because the courtesy phones were being worked on or something, so the lady at the information desk called the hotel for me, and I waited. It took the kid about 30 min to get me, then it was just the two of us in one of those vans. DC sniper style, plus windows. Hmm, a regular van, I dunno. I checked into the hotel and freaked out because my check card was mia, but at some point I'd put it into the larger pocket where cash goes instead of behind my liscense. All was good about and hour later. I checked in and fucked around on the internet for a while.
Starved, I got a map and left the hotel on my own, striking out to find something cheap and close. I ended up going to the Great Dane, a bar, and order some pretzels. They were huge puffy pretzel sticks and in store made mustard. The pretzels were tasty, and the mustard a different experience. It had horserdish in it, made it some spicy shit. Seriously. My sinuses were clear, every time it tuched my tongue my mouth watered and my eyes teared. The bartender was nice and kept asking if I wanted anything else, I drank water. In retrospect I might have been able to get booze, but it was well enough that I hadn't tried for it.
Finished with my snack and adventure I headed back to the hotel and soon met with my roommate Janelle. I was quiet and wary, probably from being tired. I dunno. We both took naps and were the last to show up for dinner with Prof. Day, who I may or may not refer to as Frank for the rest of this post. Anywho, it's Frank, myself, Janelle, Chelsea, Freddy, Nakoa and Kellen at dinner this evening. Jenediy[sp] and Jennifer don't arrive until 10 so we go out without them for a group dinner.
We all walk down state street and decide on an Italian place. The conversation is tame, compared to the rest of the week. Freddy tells a bunch of silly stories and so the jokes start. Making fun of him. He said 'i don't know why, but girls keep giving me things' or silly things like that. After dinner Frank goes back to the hotel and our group continues down State St. where we just look around. Some of us buy some very tasty gellato from a local place. We keep on down the hill, eying places to check out later. I see a hat place called 'The Stuffed Feather' and decide to go there the next day.
We all walk all the way down the hill before some of us go back to the hotel. The boys, Nakoa and Freddy, keep walking around and find a bar eventually, apparently, from what they tell us later. Janelle and I chat a bit before going to sleep.
Sunday, June 22.
I wake sometime mid morning. I hang in the hotel for a while, until I'm too hungry to not wander, and eventually leave, heading down State St. where I go to the hat place. I buy my awesome new corduroy cap then head to the Noodle Company for lunch. I think now I wander back to the hotel so I can register for the week and get my name tag and program. Originally I'm not on the list for my field trip, so I get that sorted out. I then hang out in the lobby before the unndergrads and their mentors all meet up. Here there's a preliminry introduction to the rest of the mentors. I meet both Scotts there, Rebecca, Ken, Jacoby, and Alani. Ralph is late, I forget why.
Our big ole group heads to the Great Dane for dinner. The food is fantastic. I buy a chicken pot pie. Mmm, tasty. I spend the evening chatting with one of the Scotts, not registering there are two of them. I think I make and interesting impression on Scott L. who ends up being one of my favorite people to chat with for the entire week. Also at my table are Nakoa, Ken, Frank, Chelsea, and Jenediay. There was another man there, but I'm not sure who. The conversation goes from out ages to our interests. It's loose and fun.
After dinner the mentors roll out, and use undergrads walk down State St. to the University of Wisconsin-Madison campus is. Their student center sells beer. I drink some horrible weak miller light then decide I'm really not a beer person. Freddy tries to give me crap about it, but I defend my point that I think beer tastes horrible, and that I like real alcohol, liquor and such. We all walk back because we have an early morning.
Back in the hotel Janelle and I end up staying up for a time on out computers. Janelle is apparently having a fight with her boyfriend and stays up until 4. We're supposed to go to the plenary session in the morning. I try to sleep, and do succeed for the most part, sleeping until I need to get ready.
----
Ooh, so much writing for only two days. I'll continue on my play-by-play of the week after sleeping seeing as how I have things I need to do in the morning and would like sleep myself. Next post, Monday and the plenary session until...Tuesday or Wednesday I presume. It depends on when I start writing. Geez, this post is so epically long.
Jasmine P.
After sobering up and waiting for my flight, between Norfolk and Detroit was uneventful. There was that weird bitch who wanted to wait in a longer line, but that was before the flight. I had an aisle seat which was pretty chill. I stayed awake the entire time and read through my new Esquire after I finished the SMod I'd been listening to. In Detroit I was originally worried about not being able to find my next terminal, but they were damn near side by side. from A-2 to A-7, so I grabbed an overpriced sandwich from Quiznos because it had been 12+ hours since my previous meal. I chilled and hopped onto my second flight. This time I was closer to the front of the plane, still in the aisle, and this plane was only 5 seats across, unlike the first which was 6.
In Wisconsin there was some trouble at the airport because the courtesy phones were being worked on or something, so the lady at the information desk called the hotel for me, and I waited. It took the kid about 30 min to get me, then it was just the two of us in one of those vans. DC sniper style, plus windows. Hmm, a regular van, I dunno. I checked into the hotel and freaked out because my check card was mia, but at some point I'd put it into the larger pocket where cash goes instead of behind my liscense. All was good about and hour later. I checked in and fucked around on the internet for a while.
Starved, I got a map and left the hotel on my own, striking out to find something cheap and close. I ended up going to the Great Dane, a bar, and order some pretzels. They were huge puffy pretzel sticks and in store made mustard. The pretzels were tasty, and the mustard a different experience. It had horserdish in it, made it some spicy shit. Seriously. My sinuses were clear, every time it tuched my tongue my mouth watered and my eyes teared. The bartender was nice and kept asking if I wanted anything else, I drank water. In retrospect I might have been able to get booze, but it was well enough that I hadn't tried for it.
Finished with my snack and adventure I headed back to the hotel and soon met with my roommate Janelle. I was quiet and wary, probably from being tired. I dunno. We both took naps and were the last to show up for dinner with Prof. Day, who I may or may not refer to as Frank for the rest of this post. Anywho, it's Frank, myself, Janelle, Chelsea, Freddy, Nakoa and Kellen at dinner this evening. Jenediy[sp] and Jennifer don't arrive until 10 so we go out without them for a group dinner.
We all walk down state street and decide on an Italian place. The conversation is tame, compared to the rest of the week. Freddy tells a bunch of silly stories and so the jokes start. Making fun of him. He said 'i don't know why, but girls keep giving me things' or silly things like that. After dinner Frank goes back to the hotel and our group continues down State St. where we just look around. Some of us buy some very tasty gellato from a local place. We keep on down the hill, eying places to check out later. I see a hat place called 'The Stuffed Feather' and decide to go there the next day.
We all walk all the way down the hill before some of us go back to the hotel. The boys, Nakoa and Freddy, keep walking around and find a bar eventually, apparently, from what they tell us later. Janelle and I chat a bit before going to sleep.
Sunday, June 22.
I wake sometime mid morning. I hang in the hotel for a while, until I'm too hungry to not wander, and eventually leave, heading down State St. where I go to the hat place. I buy my awesome new corduroy cap then head to the Noodle Company for lunch. I think now I wander back to the hotel so I can register for the week and get my name tag and program. Originally I'm not on the list for my field trip, so I get that sorted out. I then hang out in the lobby before the unndergrads and their mentors all meet up. Here there's a preliminry introduction to the rest of the mentors. I meet both Scotts there, Rebecca, Ken, Jacoby, and Alani. Ralph is late, I forget why.
Our big ole group heads to the Great Dane for dinner. The food is fantastic. I buy a chicken pot pie. Mmm, tasty. I spend the evening chatting with one of the Scotts, not registering there are two of them. I think I make and interesting impression on Scott L. who ends up being one of my favorite people to chat with for the entire week. Also at my table are Nakoa, Ken, Frank, Chelsea, and Jenediay. There was another man there, but I'm not sure who. The conversation goes from out ages to our interests. It's loose and fun.
After dinner the mentors roll out, and use undergrads walk down State St. to the University of Wisconsin-Madison campus is. Their student center sells beer. I drink some horrible weak miller light then decide I'm really not a beer person. Freddy tries to give me crap about it, but I defend my point that I think beer tastes horrible, and that I like real alcohol, liquor and such. We all walk back because we have an early morning.
Back in the hotel Janelle and I end up staying up for a time on out computers. Janelle is apparently having a fight with her boyfriend and stays up until 4. We're supposed to go to the plenary session in the morning. I try to sleep, and do succeed for the most part, sleeping until I need to get ready.
----
Ooh, so much writing for only two days. I'll continue on my play-by-play of the week after sleeping seeing as how I have things I need to do in the morning and would like sleep myself. Next post, Monday and the plenary session until...Tuesday or Wednesday I presume. It depends on when I start writing. Geez, this post is so epically long.
Jasmine P.
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