aqumada

By Nebelbal…

Four years ago, I was a thesis and a couple of classes away from obtaining my Masters Degree.  I had a perfect GPA and was on my way to space.

Then I showed up into my life…

I dropped out of school vowing to never come back.  Neither did I hate school nor was I tired of it, but circumstances in my life became overwhelming and school just got in the way of, among other things, my-self pity and self-medication.

Until yesterday, I consistently felt a sense of failure every time I spotted The blue Pyramid sticking out among the trees somewhere in Cal State Long Beach as I drove south on the 405 Freeway.  Seconds later, I would pass the Bellflower blvd exit to the campus as my inner voice went “here quitty quitty quitty…here quitty quitty quitty”.  I had to instantly retaliate with some type of thought diversion, rationalization or justification to appease my self-loathing.  I couldn’t even muster up a nasty hiss in the form of a Fuck-You to my tormentor.  I ran from that voice like I stole money from it.

Proximo: ….So finally after 5 years of scratching a living in flea infested villages we are finally going back to where we belong;

The Coliseum!

Oh you should see the Coliseum, Spaniard. 50,000 Romans watching every movement of your sword, willing you to make that killer blow. The silence before you strike, and the noise after wards, it rises, rises like…like a storm, as if you were the Thunder God himself.

That was Gladiator by the way

No?

Ok!  How about a George Costanza “I’m back baby I’m back!”

Alrighty then…

I’m going back to school :-0

I have to re-apply to the school and also to the graduate program.  Also my 4.0 was ruined because I got an F instead of a W since I dropped out without properly withdrawing.  At the time I had no intention of even driving by a school had the logistics of driving in Southern California allowed it.  Withdrawal form?  C’mon. I had shit to do man!

I may have failed a subject or two in the 11^th grade, but I have never seen an F next my name ever.  Since I am of the belief that the only entity that fails me is the ‘here quitty quitty voice’ and no one else, I have decided to fill out this petition to see if I can contest that F and get it to be a W.  W just sounds better.  Think about it.  There is a W in win, and despite what ‘here quitty quitty” says, I am a winner.  But then, there is also I in win.  I digress.  My name starts with an F anyways, I don’t like where this is going.

I am honestly not worried about my grade.  Ok may be a little bit.  Hey man.  I’ve never maintained a 4.0 GPA in my life and probably never will.  Besides, my reputation as the eccentric genius that walked away from academia with a 4.0 GPA is gonna take a hit.

Seriously, that F took me from a 4.0 to a 3.0, which is the minimum to stay in the graduate program that I am re-applying to.  That only means I need to play with house money and run the table with As.  I can do that baby.  You are talking to Ye-Miskaye Hizunan Sekay.  I don’t care if I have to seduce the professors like Bethlehem from Addis Ababa University in the book Sememen.  I am staying in that program and graduating.  Sememen by the way is a beautiful Amharic book I read when I could read novels during my teenage years.  It is a fiction, so don’t go scouring your brains for a slut named Bethlehem.  Oh the digression.

I am just so happy that I started the process to go back to school.  That also will take care of the ‘So, when are you going back to school’ from my mom, which stabbed me in the heart more than the ‘So, when are you getting married?’.  I am also very grateful to have the opportunity to join the elite club of people that took longer to finish their graduate degree than their high-school and undergraduate studies combined.

Allow me to elaborate…

High school + Undergrad = 7.5 years

Graduate School:  Eeehhh….Fall 2004 – Spring 2012.  Just in time for the 2012 debacle.  On December 21, 2012, Jesus will be of the knowledge that he is dealing with someone with a Masters Degree when he comes to kick it with me.  I won’t be singing graduate school drop-out during the end-times.

I actually decided to put in this entry to share some poetry.  I was trying to look at my application to the same Masters Program from 2004 which was password protected.  The stars were aligned that day and I remembered that password.  I then got on a roll and recalled the password for these these poems I wrote 3 years ago; poems I wanted desperately to share  on Yekolo’s Lair a few months back.  The Lair is dead by the way Yekolo.  What is going on?  Wogesha? Amiche? Choma?  Where art thee?

Anyways, the secret hint that came up from the application to help to me remember one of those passwords was the word ‘Zeberga’.  It then prompted me to retort with another word.  I kindly put in ‘Tenkir’ and then my password for the graduate school application from fall 2004 was sent to me via email.  I almost laughed out loud in the library at the fact that my 1st guess ‘Tenkir’ worked.  I know how this brain of mine works man.  I also sincerely apologize to my Gurage Brethren.  I have no idea what I was thinking in 2004.  I am not a bigot.  I am not a bigot.  I am not a bigot.

It also turns out that that one of the passwords was my dad’s last name and the other was my dad’s first name.  I know.  This is just one epic failure after another.  I deserve that F just for this.

Proximo: He knows too well how to manipulate the mob.
Maximus: Marcus Aurelius had a dream that was Rome, Proximo. This is not it. This is not it!
Proximo: Marcus Aurelius is dead Maximus. We mortals are but shadows and dust. Shadows and dust, Maximus.

Enjoy…

Face it…

Don’t run
Don’t hide
Don’t gun
Take it in stride
Don’t buckle
Just Adjust
Only chuckle
If you so must
Never pry
Where you don’t belong
Don’t explain
The entire log
Set your pace
Keep it with grace
Eyes ablaze
Finish the race

©2007

I must admit, after the debacle of the 2005 election, I have never held the notion that the current election would be free.  For this reason, I  have not really been closely following the election campaign. Even though my exposure has been limited, a couple of observations have been puzzling me…

The first one is that since when did former hard-liners who, most likely, contributed as much as Meles  for the current political state of Ethiopia become reformers and start representing the ‘opposition’? Call me a pessimist but do the Ethiopian people actually believe these guys have thrown away or their ideals and became democrats over night? The second observation is that why would EPRDF allow these guys to run, given the obvious threat posed? From the past experiences with Birtukan, Prof. Asrat, OLF, etc we know that this government imprisons, kills, or, exiles those who it fears would challenge its rule. The whole thing does not smell right.

Yekolotmari

Every morning on the way to work, I have to walk from the NY City Bus Terminal at Port-Authority to the 42nd street subway station through an underground passageway. Amongst the crowd of people rushing to work, there are several preachers busy doing God’s work. There is the loud black lady with a heavy accent who does not miss a day and supplements her preaching with religious hymns. There is also an aggressive loud black man who has chosen the strategy of trying to threaten people into submission. Occasionally, there is a Latino preacher who preaches in both English and Spanish. The most interesting one to me is the Indian preacher who puts on business attire and carries a briefcase.  He looks like an IT worker rather than a preacher. He is soft spoken and unsure of himself. It is as if someone else has told him to be there. Perhaps, the outsourcing phenomenon has reached the preaching world as well.