[9:11:26 PM] jdepplover45: i want chocolate man [9:12:06 PM] getsai: ..................... [9:12:17 PM] getsai: men covered in chocolate? [9:12:22 PM] getsai: or men made of chocolate [9:12:24 PM] getsai: or [9:12:27 PM] getsai: black guys [9:12:29 PM] getsai: or all 3?! [9:12:30 PM] jdepplover45: or i want chocolate, man
lunedì 28 febbraio 2011
lunedì 21 febbraio 2011
I usually don't do resolutions but I feel like it right now.
This year, I want to:
1)Graduate 2)Go to Madagascar 3)Learn how to navigate without using modern technology 4)Start a real food fight 5)Grow out my hair and get dredlocks 6)Learn how to sail 7)Reduce my material possessions to200 or less 8)Be more conscious of my surroundings 9)Get into grad school 10) Keep in touch with friends 11) Benicer
lunedì 14 febbraio 2011
People always call me weird, but I have a good excuse—my childhood with a mental family.
i.e.
Reactions toward the “Is the glass half full or half empty question”:
Mom: OH LOOK, someone was kind enough to give us a glass of milk (doesn’t notice it’s half empty). People are soooooo nice praise God!!!!!
Dad: Hey, look, no one’s drinking this. It was obviously bad, because they left half of it, and that means no one wants this, so I will drink it all (without asking anyone else if they want any). *chug*
Older Sister (Faith): OMG, MUST DILUTE MUST DILUTE!!! *Puts a drop in a cup and fills with water and sips some of it* Aha, a full cup!
Younger Sister (Joyce): WHO DRANK HALF THIS CUP?! IMMA KILL THEM!!!!!!!
Me: *Had poisoned the full glass of milk*
…
*Random person drops dead*
Aha, YOU drank it…
Grandma: This tastes bad. Milk from Taiwan is better.
Grandpa: *Ignores*. He doesn’t drink liquid…sort of surprising how he’s still alive.
And there you have it. It's not my fault I'm insane.
domenica 13 febbraio 2011
venerdì 11 febbraio 2011
Mabrook, Egypt! Here's the video. You guys better watch it a million times because it took 1653 minutes to upload the 1.16 GB on youtube. Curse you 1.16 GB, curse you!
Anyway, sorry for the delay in putting my pictures from the 28th up. They are now on my facebook. Look at them, repost them, do NOT give them to the media (you should know why by now). The video I've been making should be up tomorrow or the day after. :]
I just got back from the protest in front of the FederalBuilding in Los Angeles. The Americans I saw there were unhelpful.
I arrive at noon in front of the FederalBuilding to meet up with Nathan, another EAP student who goes to UCLA. The goal of our trip is to find a few legit journalists who can tell our story to the public WITHOUT twisting the story—our photos and videos can be easily misinterpreted out of context.
There are about 100 people along the corner of the sidewalk waving signs, banners, and flags. Newspapers are being sold from a socialist organization regarding the situation in Egypt. A large part of the protesters are from ANSWER, an organization that we are worried might use our information for their own agenda and political gain.
I call Nathan and we meet up. We are disoriented by so many Americans walking around and smiling. A few days ago, I had just been shot at and tear-gassed after all. This protest was comical—angering even.
We are pleased to see two tour buses arrive. Egyptian Americans are dropped off and we approach two men to ask what organization they are a part of. It appears they are a group from Las Vegas that drove here specifically for the protest. I show the men the tear gas canister, bullet shells, and the other things I have from the protest in Egypt. The leader of their group says he would be happy to have our eyewitness accounts IF they prove to be authentic. I am silent but rather I am thinking furiously, “ARE YOU SERIOUSLY KIDDING ME? I AM HOLDING A TEAR CANISTER AND BULLET CARTRIDGES, SHOWING YOU MY FILM NEGATIVES—I HAVE EGYPTIAN POUND NOTES ON ME, I HAVE EGYPTIAN METRO TICKETS ON ME. I CAN SHOW YOU MY PASSPORT WITH MY EGYPTIAN VISA IN IT.” I cannot believe this man. Nathan agrees to give him the information if they want it though. We walk away.
Next, we approach a lady that has been protesting for a while. She is not a part of an organization, but a young man next to her begins talking to us. His name is Albert and we explain our position to him. He gives us a few pointers, but he is not associated with any journalists either. We talk to a few other people but their responses are the same. We leave the protest disappointed.
What I learned from this protest:
1)The public is largely uninformed about the situation in Egypt.
What shocked me the most were some of the chants and banners that the protesters were using. Their chants were largely led by ANSWER and were borrowed from previous protests for other countries. A woman was holding a sign that said “If Mubarak can be elected as President, then I can be president”— one of the major problems in Egypt right now is that there are no fair elections. MUBARAK WAS NOT ELECTED AS PRESIDENT—HE MADE HIMSELF PRESIDENT.
Another example of misinformation: upon her arrival, a lady in front of me said quite loudly to her husband, “Wow, this is more people than they can gather anywhere in the Middle East.”
Please God, take me back to Egypt, I’d rather be shot at. My brain hurts more than my bruises from shrapnel. Information is power and the public does not have it.
2)There are no trustworthy media sources that will tell our stories without misinforming the public or inserting their own opinions.
All the journalists, photographers, or media personnel either brushed us off or were untrustworthy. We could contact CNN or other big news companies that have already interviewed many evacuees, but they are not interested in the truth and can easily edit out important points (they have already done this to a few of my friends who have been interviewed). However, more information is coming back to us every day that could be important to the outcome of events in Egypt. Without media coverage, the misinformed, or rather uninformed public will never know what is happening.
I am asking all of my friends who read this to send this out. I will continue to attach links to my friends’ blogs, pictures, and various other pieces of information. These are eyewitness accounts of people who experienced, or are experiencing the revolution. Please help spread the news.
These are my experiences of the revolution in Egypt. It is 3 hours since I got off the plane at LAX.
January 27, 2011
22:30
I just got back from Morocco after 11 days of traveling around with friends. We had heard about the protests in Tahrir, but everything seems normal as Tommy, Drew, and I take the bus to the metro back to Maadi, the residential neighborhood I live in. I get home and I pass out from exhaustion.
January 28, 2011
11:00
It is a calm Friday morning in Cairo. I am super dirty but things got even dirtier as I was away in Morocco. There is dust everywhere and I have no clean clothes, so I start to clean.
15:00
I turn on the TV out of curiosity to see what is going on with the protests. “WTF!” Things are insane down in Tahrir. Tahrir is the main square in downtown Cairo where the main protest is going on. It also, ironically, means “liberation.” I drop the broom, change into workout clothes (because these are the only clean ones left), and head out with 4 rolls of film and my fat camera. I walk to the closest Metro Mart to get a phone card to contact my friends, but all the phone lines are cut off. I buy a water bottle and walk to Metro El Sakanat. The security officers in front of the metro ask if I am going to Sadat, the metro stop in Tahrir Square, to go sight-seeing because I look like an Asian tourist with my camera.
“Kobri el Kobba,” I lie, as I explain that I am meeting a friend at Kobri, a stop far from the protests.
15:30
I stand up as the metro nears Sadat. It passes Sadat as well as Nasser, the next metro stop. I think a bad word—how am I going to get to Tahrir? I get off at Orabi, the next available stop. As I get off, my lungs and eyes are pierced by a million needles—the metro had been tear-gassed. I run back onto the metro to escape the gas and arrive at Mubarak. Screw the tear gas, I’m getting out. Covering my face with my hands, I jump over the turnstiles to get out into the open air. Outside, a man hands me a tissue with some water on it so I can cover my nose and mouth. Another man vomits next to me, nauseated by the gas.
-->
ASIDE: WHAT GETTING HIT BY TEAR GAS FEELS LIKE
Well, it REALLY HURTS. Tear gas is 2-chlorobenzalmalononitrile, which actually just means a ton of chemicals that make you tear, suffocate, and will knock you out if you inhale enough of it. It also feels like your skin is burning when hit with it at a close range. I was more or less running around sneezing like mad, tearing up, and sniffling with a runny nose the entire time. My skin also felt like it was gonna fall off, like I was molting like a snake, except my skin wasn’t actually coming off. Needless to say, it causes a lot of panic because you can’t see for a bit, you can’t breathe for a bit, and you hurt…A LOT. When you are running away from the source of gas, naturally you inhale more of it. The overall feeling is panicked disorientation and pain. To make yourself feel better, use a basic solution or some water to relieve the pain. I left my water bottle from Metro Mart inside the metro. Smart move, not. So I just hurt…A LOT.
16:00
In front of the metro is the Ramesses train station. A burning security car emits black fumes to the right of me. Protesters charge down the street holding flags, metal/wood beams, and rocks. People are throwing rocks at the Mubarak’s police and their vehicles. I snap photos as a man smashes a traffic light with a metal bar. Three protesters shout for Mubarak to step down, while waving the Egyptian flag between them. A man asks me if I have an extra tissue to spare. I don’t, but we start talking. His name is Ibrahim and he is a student at the BritishUniversity in Cairo. Dressed in a posh purple polo, he looks like the typical Egyptian AUC boy (AUC stands for the AmericanUniversity in Cairo, my university). A woman approaches me and says something in Arabic which Ibrahim translates as, “Are you a journalist?” Another man asks me to take a photo of him holding a rubber bullet that he repeatedly shouts is “made in USA.” I snap a few more photos and Ibrahim asks me to join him as the crowd surges toward Tahrir. The police are shooting and tear gassing us to keep us from getting to the center of the protest. From the top of an overpass people were throwing bottles of water to the people below. Ibrahim gives me his scarf to cover my face from tear gas, as we run down the street toward Tahrir. I was tearing pretty badly.
16:30
It is almost impossible to get past a street two blocks down from Ramesses. Mubarak’s security officers launch tear gas canisters that momentarily break up the protesters. After a few minutes of asphyxiating, suffocating, tearing, and sneezing, we charge again at the armed officers. In the mess, there are men praying on the side of the street facing a mosque. Some people drag the police out of a police car, beat them, and pour diesel on the car and burn it. We run as tear gas is launched toward us again.
18:00
One of Mubarak’s generals sides with the people and lets them into Tahrir. It’s the only reason we get in. Tahrir Square is a giant roundabout that is surrounded by buildings, including the Interior Ministry Building and the Egyptian Museum—this is the first time I have not seen traffic there…at least of cars. Smoke is everywhere as the Interior ministry building burns. People across Cairo have gathered in the square and are shouting, destroying, and marching around the square. Things start to get messy as the cops begin firing into the crowd. Some shrapnel launched from afar hits my leg, leaving a bruise, as the crowd migrates away from the line of cops. Think “Saving Private Ryan” in the 21st century before all the death. Tear gas is continuously fired into the crowd. One canister lands at my feet—purely by reflex, I pick it up and hurl it back at the line of police. Blinded momentarily by the gas, I am squashed next to other protesters as we try to escape. We run onto a street where a man had acquired a hose and is using it to put out the tear gas canisters. A mob breaks into a store and boxes of empty bottles are taken out to make Molotov cocktails. A man bleeding heavily holds a tissue to his head and asks if I have any tissues. I don’t.
19:00
I’m tired and I want to leave but we are surrounded by cops and tear gas. We head down a side street, and as we turn the corner, we see the military tanks roll in. The crowds are cheering and Ibrahim insists that we go back to see the military. I agree. We join the protesters as they chant for Mubarak to leave. The crowd parades around the tanks, waving flags and climbing onto the vehicles to join the soldiers.
ASIDE: THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE POLICE, THE SECURITY POLICE, AND THE MILITARY
POLICE: They’re like the LAPD…except they more or less blindly follow Mubarak. So dumb. Really, REALLY dumb.
SECURITY POLICE: They are separate from the normal police because of emergency laws that Mubarak set up. They follow Mubarak so they’re sort of evil.
MILITARY: The military is the army. For the last 30 years they have been separate. They are neutral and just want to keep things peaceful.
19:30
I try to leave again but now we are trapped between the cops and protesters. A man with a red shirt and curly hair motions for us to follow him. He leads us into a mosque because it is a short cut to get out of the square. However, the mosque is temporarily being used as a hospital. I feel sick. Six men lie on sheets passed out as other men attempt to treat their bullet wounds. Two have sheets placed over their faces—dead. A man has a bandage over his eye and blood soaks his shirt. Other victims of the protest sit waiting to be treated. We exit and come face to face with Dina (my friend), Mustafa, Tamera, and Matt (her friends). We find ourselves at a building where each of us is handed half a hot dog bun by an old man at the entrance. From the roof, this building is next to the AUC downtown campus and both buildings overlook Tahrir. After climbing twelve stories to get to the roof of this building, we can see all of Tahrir from above. The protesters are gathered in small clumps around the tanks. The Interior ministry building is still burning. Tear gas is still being thrown, but now we can see where it’s coming from—the AmericanUniversity in Cairo.
21:00
Protesters gather in our building. The police – the men on the roof of AUC – have been throwing the tear gas cylinders at the crowd below and gunshots have been going off continuously. In retaliation, the protesters on the roof of our building (which is taller than AUC) shoot bombs at the police. My childhood dream of my school burning down might come true. We are told to go back down into the building because it is too dangerous.
21:30
There is a hotel located in the building but the hotel manager was told not to let Egyptians stay at the hotel for “security reasons.” Dina, Mustafa, and Ibrahim are Egyptian and the rest of us do not want to stay in the hotel. Dina, Ibrahim, and I go to the door to leave, but we are stopped by protesters who ducked in the doorway to escape bullets. The men told us that if we went out, they would physically drag us back in because it was too dangerous. We walk back up to the roof to wait out the protest.
22:00
We are alerted that the cops are going to storm the building because they have noticed the men throwing bombs from our building. Ibrahim panics; we need to get out or the cops will arrest us if they catch us here. It’s even worse for my friends because half of them are Egyptian. We run down the fire escape and jump through the window into the building next to ours. Ibrahim and I lose the others in the process. We are again stopped at the doorway of the second building because it is too dangerous outside. As we try to talk our way out of the building, three other men run in. One had just been shot in the arm by shrapnel and was bleeding profusely. We head back to the old building. When I jump back through the window, my camera lens cover comes loose and falls four stories below, darnit. I go back to join my friends, but Ibrahim decides to risk it and runs out.
23:00
I find Dina in the hotel. We are not sure how long we will have to wait, so we decide to get a room and sneak the Egyptians in. We watch TV with everyone in the lobby and Mubarak announces that his cabinet is fired—this is BS. Everyone is outraged. Simultaneously our building is tear-gassed by the police who saw that bombs were still being launched from our building.
January 29
0:00
From the top we can see that more military tanks have rolled in. They hand out shields and helmets to the crowds. Things are now calmer in the square and we decide to head out. On the side street leading from our building to Tahrir, we run into a group of five protesters who broke into a store to get food. They invite us to share the looted food with them and we are handed cheese, bread, and a can of soup. We take pictures with one of the protesters in front of graffiti that says “F*** Mubarak.” “Eshta!” (slang for “cool”) I say to one of them. He laughs and we joke around. I guess this is dinner break. We walk into Tahrir to leave the protest. Suddenly we are shot at from the side, and more shrapnel bruises my legs. We run back into the original building.
1:05
We go to the roof again to survey the scene from the top. All of the sudden we feel rain drops on our faces. It is raining…IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DESERT. It is a miracle from God—a shout goes up from the people because rain is also a sign of blessing and goodness in Islam. People of all religions – Muslims, Christians, and others – begin chanting “God is our God.” This is not a religion-based revolution—it is a revolution of the people.
2:00
Dina and I finally escape and find a taxi. The crowd is mostly quiet now.
3:30
I get home. Road blocks have been implemented throughout Cairo. Getting home took twice the amount of time it would normally take.
11:30
I wake up and turn on the TV. I finish the previous day’s cleaning as I watch Al Jazeera, a news channel based in Qatar.
15:30
I go out to Metro Mart but it is closed because curfew is implemented at 16:00. I walk back. The streets are unnaturally silent as men gather outside with sticks to beat anyone that tries to loot their houses. Maadi is one of the neighborhoods that is being heavily looted by police dressed as civilians, to create unrest.
16:30
I pack a backpack full of essentials just in case I am evacuated suddenly. The rest of the day is spent watching the news.
January 30
16:00
I head out in a taxi with my backpack to Heliopolis where Aniqua, Dina, and Mona live. We spend the day watching TV, eating, stocking up on food, and making funfetti for me and Morgan’s birthdays. I get a call from Colin – the other study abroad students are being evacuated. Depression hits as we realize that our chances of staying are slim.
23:30
A call from Fadi, our Education Abroad Program director, confirms that we are being evacuated tomorrow. We will be picked up by the evacuation team in the morning.
January 31
We wake up early to get evacuated but the evacuation team is unorganized and is misinformed about our locations. I am told not to leave my friends’ apartment and that I will be picked up and moved to my apartment to pack. In the meantime, the meeting point is changed multiple times and we are not picked up.
14:05
There’s frustration as curfew will start at 15:00 and the evacuation team has not picked us up yet. I take the taxi back to my apartment where I am told that I will be picked up immediately. I will be taken to the Marriot where our meeting point is. I pack in 15 minutes and wait for the team to pick me up.
14:50
A call from Elaine, the head of the evacuation team, explains that they do not have time to pick me up. I spend my birthday with Al Jazeera as company.
February 1
10:00
I am picked up an hour late and shuttled to the Marriot. Everyone gathers and we go to the airport.
16:00
After waiting several hours we board the plane headed to Barcelona.
February 2
We have an entire day in Barcelona to figure out where we could fly to next. I could finally check my email. Apparently while I was still in Egypt, I received an email from EAP warning the students of the situation in Egypt and about how we don’t have internet. Thanks for sending us emails that we couldn’t read.
February 3
Some of us take our flight out to Zurich and connect there to get back to Los Angeles.
Conclusion:
This is the series of events that has happened over the past few days. During the protest, I tried to write down everything as it happened so I wouldn’t confuse the timing and events. Egypt is in chaos and the people who are being killed in Tahrir are wonderful people that I met during my stay there. While Egypt has had its ups and downs for me, the Egyptians I met were kind, generous, and friendly even though I was a foreigner and could not speak their language. The protesters that I met have looked out for me and were protesting more or less peacefully until Mubarak paid some to turn on their own in the days after I left. Most Americans don’t care what happens in Egypt because they think it is unrelated to them. While this is not our revolution, a large part of the funding behind the Egyptian government comes from the US (nearly $1.5 billion). I hate politics and I am not the person to inform anyone about the political aspects of the revolution (I can link you to my political science major friends from Egypt if you are curious), but it does not take a politics major to know that the pointless deaths of innocent people caused by a corrupt regime is wrong. American tax dollars are being used to support Mubarak. We need to let our government know that we do not support their decisions regarding Egypt. There will be a protest in LA tomorrow – I will be there. Please join us.
If anyone has more questions or wants more details/pictures, please let me know.
sabato 8 gennaio 2011
Dunbar loved shooting skeet because he hated every minute of it and the time passed so slowly. He had figured out that a single hour on the skeet-shooting range with people like Haverymeyer and Appleby could be worth as much as eleven-times-seventeen years.
"I think you're crazy," was the way Clevinger had responded to Dunbar's discovery. "Who wants to know?" Dunbar answered. "I mean it," Clevinger insisted. "Who cares?" Dunbar answered. "I really do. I'll even go so far as to concede that life seems longer i--" "--is longer i--" "--is longer--Is longer? All right, is longer if it's filled with periods of boredom and discomfort, b--"
"Well, maybe it is true," Clevinger conceded unwillingly in a subdued tone. "Maybe a long life does have to be filled with many unpleasant conditions if it's to seem long. But in that event, who wants one?" "I do," Dunbar told him. "Why?" Clevinger asked. "What else is there?"
-Catch-22, Joseph Heller
mercoledì 5 gennaio 2011
Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the western spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun.
Orbiting this at a distance of roughly ninety-two million miles is an utterly insignificant little blue green planet whose ape-descended life forms are so amazingly primitive that they still think digital watches are a pretty neat idea.
This planet has — or rather had — a problem, which was this: most of the people on it were unhappy for pretty much of the time. Many solutions were suggested for this problem, but most of these were largely concerned with the movements of small green pieces of paper, which is odd because on the whole it wasn't the small green pieces of paper that were unhappy.
And so the problem remained; lots of the people were mean, and most of them were miserable, even the ones with digital watches.
Many were increasingly of the opinion that they'd all made a big mistake in coming down from the trees in the first place. And some said that even the trees had been a bad move, and that no one should ever have left the oceans.
And then, one Thursday, nearly two thousand years after one man had been nailed to a tree for saying how great it would be to be nice to people for a change, one girl sitting on her own in a small cafe in Rickmansworth suddenly realized what it was that had been going wrong all this time, and she finally knew how the world could be made a good and happy place. This time it was right, it would work, and no one would have to get nailed to anything.
-The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams
Hi, I deserve pity because my life sucks cuz people suck. I hate everything except for food, bears, traveling and sleep because these are the only things that don't annoy me, unless the food tastes bad--then that annoys me too. I'm a minimalist and a hobo because I hate it when people waste so much stuff and then end up never traveling because they have to lug it everywhere with them. People are stupid and I hope the whole world dies. I'm an immature hater and I like it and if you don't, then go away. If you do, then go away anyway, freak. I'M SOO BORED I'M GONNA DIEEE.......
PITY ME, because I am a liar of everything true.
Other people write about important things. I write to amuse myself. Deal with it.
