Model UN

Confessions of a high school loser

When I was in high school, it would be safe to say that I was a bit of a loser. I never thought so, since my self esteem was always through the roof, but in retrospect and through other people’s eyes yeah, I can see it. No story demonstrates this more than the time I went to Model UN.

Model UN was an extracurricular activity where students portrayed the role of different countries in the United Nations. The idea was to learn about politics and diplomacy. An extra nerdy function for the most part, but I’ve never been one to be ashamed of my intelligence, so when they asked me to join, I did.  Model UN also drew students from all over the region, so we had the opportunity to rub elbows with people that we normally would never meet. The country I was representing was Algeria, which was cool because it was in Africa, but not so cool, because it wasn’t the real Africa to me. You know Mr. Militant wanted to rep a Sub Saharan (AKA black) country. LOL. Anyway, the first night there, we got grouped together randomly, first in a group of 4 kids per country, then in a group of four countries. All together 16 kids sat to a table and talked about oil prices, and political prisoners and going to war. It was pretty cool, if a big nerd does say so himself.

One of the girls from my table was repping Portugal. She was, in the vernacular of my youth, “slammin’!!!” I can’t remember her real name, so I’ll just call her Portugal for the rest of the post. Anyway, me and Portugal got to talking during the work session, and hit it off. She was from Whitfield county, which I still don’t know where it is to this day. All I know is that she was country, and tall and light skinneded with long hair. Not my type now, but back then, you better believe it. She looked like a younger version of a video model. So we’re talking and she asks me if I want to sit with her and her friends at the banquet.  Ummm…. Yeah. Let's do it. 

We had fun at the banquet then it turned into a dance. One small problem: Rashan does not dance. I tried to avoid the dance floor for as long as I could until Portugal forced my hand. "Come On, Algeria...let's dance" She grabbed my hand and guess what I did... I danced with her. Yeah, I was a loser, but not that much of a loser. Hot chick wants to dance with you, then you dance... The loser part comes later after the banquet/dance was over. We were staying at the Jameson Inn in Statesboro, Ga. She invited me to come back to her hotel room. I had to go check in with my chaperone and was supposed to sneak out and go to her room at midnight. My roommate was scared of me and wouldn't snitch, so that would be no problem. Her roommate was inviting someone over too, so that was no problem. But when it came time for me to do the actual sneaking out, I got scared. It took forever to actually work up the nerve to leave the room. I made it all the way to her room, but I never knocked on the door. Yep, Rashan was a high school loser who was scared of the hot girl.

When I saw her the next day at Model UN, I made up a story about our chaperone watching us closely, and made my roommate back me up, but I think she knew I was lying. Me and Portugal barely spoke for the rest of the day. I can't believe how much of a loser I was that trip. 

9 hours

So yesterday I got off work early b/c of the snow. I took that as an excuse to come see Jameil earlier than usual. Hopped in the car, jumped on 75 south and everything was cool... for about 10 minutes. Then all hades broke loose. I guess everybody else was leaving work early too, so the highways were packed. And people were crashing into each other left and right. Not because of the road conditions, since it wasn't even icy or slippery. I honestly don't know why they were crashing. But they certainly were crashing. I counted at least 7 accidents before I even reached Downtown Atlanta. It was enough to make me want to just say forget and try again later. I had no choice though. I couldn't even get home if I wanted to. All the highways were exactly the same It took me 3 hours to get out of the Atlanta Metro area which was ridiculous.

It finally opened up a little before Macon, but it was still snowing and raining, so I had to be careful. It wasn't until I got close to Florida that the weather finally cooperated. All in All it took me 9 hours to make a trip that usually takes 5. It didn't really seem that long to me, but once I thought about how long in the car, I was instantly tired. Listening to audio books on my iPod really makes the time go more quickly. And I'm happy that I finally get to see Jameil after 3 weeks.

OUTTA HERE!!!

Partial snow day in effect. Time to head to the warmer climes of Florida. May write more if Jameil lets me use her computer. Peace!!!

Possible Snow Day Makes Rashan Ramble

Is it possible that I can actually get another snow day tomorrow? That would be dope. If so, then I can go down to Gainesville and see Jameil earlier!! Then Monday, it's supposed to snow too!!! Could I actually get a 4 day weekend without using any vacation time?  For real, I need a vacation. I got this interim manager at my job who is just getting on everybody's nerves. He's trying to change stuff that doesn't need to be changed. I hate having to be the one who always tells him that he's wrong. But I have to be. He's pretty cool when he's not trying to micromanage, so I pick and choose my battles, but I still find myself correcting him a lot. I mean, as long as a goal is met, why does it matter how it gets met. Just leave me alone and let me do my thing. I'll be glad when my old manager gets back from paternity leave. He knows when to leave things that don't matter alone.Then we found out that my department at work is getting phased out. They say it's supposed to be in December, but I don't believe them. They have never given this much notice about anything. Don't worry, I'm not losing my job. We'll be reassigned somewhere, that's if I'm still here. I'll probably be moving out of Atlanta anyway, so I'm not too worried. But I still need a vacation. My next one is at the beginning of March. Gonna hang out with Jameil for her Spring Break. I think we are going to Tampa some time during that week. I don't care as long as I don't have to work. And now it is 11:51, so I should probably post this rambling joint and go pray for some snow.

Valentine's Day Hate

I don't like being a cliche, but on this subject I am. I'm a man, and I think Valentine's Day is stupid. Stop me if you've heard this before. I know men across the country are lamenting the fact that on Sunday, they are expected to shower their significant others with gifts so soon after Christmas. And for alot of men, the return will not be equitable. They don't want candy and flowers. It's really a woman's holiday. Then you have the people, both male and female that hate the day because they aren't boo'd up. They get tired of seeing other people being blissfully happy while they are lonely and bitter. I've been single many times on VDay, but it never really bothered me.Finally you have the people like me that just don't like it because it's a made up holiday. You'll hear conspiracy theories abound from people like us about greeting card companies, jewelers and florists.

But really, that's not why I don't like Valentine's Day. For me, it's a lot more personal. You see, my father's birthday was February 14th. He died a long time ago, and I don't usually think about it except for around this time of the year. I always seem to retreat into my thoughts this time of the year. The frustrating thing is that I know it's going to happen, but I seem powerless to stop it. I don't really feel like celebrating. Since my wonderful, loving girlfriend does like Valentine's Day, I've tried to get over it and go with the flow, but the more I try, the more I find myself struggling. I'm not really the emotional type, so it bothers me that this bothers me so much. 

My procrastination reared its ugly head this year again. I waited way too long to figure out what I wanted to get Jameil. We already have dinner plans, a wine tasting and some other stuff that we are going to be doing, but I never quite got around to the gift part, so today I focused on that. Well, at least I tried. I found myself feeling some kind of way again. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm usually so steady, but this V Day thing keeps messing me up in the head. I need to find a way to get over this crap. Thanks for reading my therapy session.

Black History Month: The Scariest Day Of My Life

I call these posts Black History Month because I’m Black, and these stories are my history.

I didn’t arrive at this title easily, especially since I’ve been shot at, robbed at gunpoint, received multiple concussions and the like. But this day was so nerve wracking, it took me a full day to regain my composure. Let me tell you what happened.
I was in college, but still living at my grandmother’s house in Savannah. I was asleep on the floor in the living room, under a palate of blankets. My Sega Genesis controller was next to me, as were my huge DJ earphones that I used to listen to angry and misogynistic rap without offending the others in the house. I stayed up until about 5 the previous night, which was commonplace for me. I wasn’t up doing homework, but rather I was trying to finish a Bill Walsh College Football video game season. When the incident occurred, at around 8:30, I was good and sleep. Knocked out beyond comprehension. That’s when I heard it.
“EEEEEEEEEEE, EEEEEEEEEEE”

What the *&#@ was that?!? It was a strange shrieking noise that was coming closer every second. I didn’t want to get up and see what was going on, but something told me that I should. My contacts were blurry, but I clearly made out the sight of my grandmother running toward me. My brain focused a little and I saw her hands. They were flailing around and I saw something else that alarmed me. My great grandmother was standing behind her hitting her on her back. I realized my grandmother was choking. I immediately sprung in to action.
I was still half sleep, but I knew that I had to do something. My great grandmother was just making things worse by pummeling my grandmother on the back. I spoke in the most terse tone that I had ever spoken to my beloved elders.

GRANDMA CLEO, GET OUT OF THE WAY NOW!!!

She did. I felt bad about that, but it was necessary. I went in for the Heimlich Maneuver. I tried abdominal thrusts for a while, but it didn’t work. I realized that I wasn’t using enough force. I really didn’t want to hurt my grandma, who at this time was in her 70’s. But I had no choice. It was either hurt her, or lose her and that was not an option. I went back in for more. I thought about what I had to do. Thrust under the diaphragm. I knew where the diaphragm was from being in chorus all those years. My chorus teacher would always tell us to sing from our diaphragm and demonstrate where it was. I mustered my strength and gave 4 big abdominal thrusts. By the fourth one, she was no longer shrieking, and was now coughing. Grandma was okay!

I ran to the kitchen and got her some water. I noticed a big old horse pill in the hallway by the front door. It was blue and way bigger than anything I would ever hope to take. I was relieved she was okay, but still a little bit shook. I gave her a big ole hug and then went to collapse on the couch. I can’t believe how close I came to losing my grandma that day. That was the scariest day of my life thus far. Way scarier than anything bad happening to me. It’s like I always had a (foolish) sense that I would be okay no matter what manner of danger came my way. But that day, seeing my grandmother struggling to breath scared the mess out of me. She’s still with us 15 years later, and I couldn’t imagine how much life would have been different if she didn’t make it that day.

Black History Month: My Doritos Shirt

I call these posts Black History Month because I’m Black, and these stories are my history.

When I was about 14-15, I had this shirt that I just loved. It was a pull over, and it was this ugly shade of green, and it had matching shorts that went with it. That summer, I think I wore that shirt at least 3 times a week. And yes, we had a washing machine, so stop thinking I was nasty. I just liked wearing it. It was baggy, and comfortable when I was working out, which is something that I did a lot back then. Yeah, I was a chubby teenager, but I was active, unlike now. I used to be outside playing football or baseball, or cutting the grass or my favorite: riding the exercise bike. I would ride that bike for hours on end while I played Nintendo, or watched a movie. I need one of those in my life now. I’m sure I would be more active. Anyway, the problem with that shirt, which again, I loved so much was that once I got to sweating, the shirt started to smell like Doritos.

I don’t know why that happened. None of my other shirts did that. I was prone to sweating a lot, but I didn’t have any out of the ordinary smells. Just teenage funk, and I think I was a little more conscious of the stinky pits than other kids, because of my excessive sweating. I rocked antiperspirant and deodorant and took long showers without having to be told. So, why was this shirt smelling like that? What was this shirt made of? You would think that after a while, I would maybe stop wearing that shirt all the time, but nope. That ain’t Rashan. The Doritos shirt was my favorite. I couldn’t imagine my life without it. It was always fodder for jokes with my brother and sister. Maybe I kept it because I secretly wanted something to bond with my siblings over. Yeah, right! That wasn’t it. I’m just stubborn. And maybe the stronger the shirt smelled of Doritos, the more I knew I was burning calories. I don’t know, but it was really weird that nobody hid that shirt from me.

I was at my grandmother’s house Saturday and the memory of me in that shirt and jumping around with my brother and sister to an Bodies In Motion exercise program on ESPN came flooding back. I couldn’t help but laugh as I thought of those times. I could have sworn I smelled Doritos again too.