themediamademecrazy.com

These are my chronological reflections since Michael Jackson’s passing. A pair of wonderful angels named Mary and Russ invited me to the memorial today at Staples Center. Those pictures can be found here: http://tinyurl.com/charisseatMJs

Michael Jackson died on June 25, at 2:26 PST in Los Angeles, CA. At that moment, I was in Lansing, MI at a week-long course on research methods with diverse ethnic and racial participants. I received an email at 2:55 PM PST titled “Michael Jackson is DEAD.” At that moment, I felt my heart stop and panic overtook me. [tweet]

I felt like a small piece of me died. Until that moment, I never realized that there had always been a Michael Jackson dancing somewhere in my soul; an Energizer Bunny that kept me going. Suddenly the moon-walking in my heart stopped, and I was viscerally affected. I wanted to be anywhere but Lansing; I wanted to be in NY at the Apollo Theater or Times Square; I wanted to be in LA at his star on the Walk of Fame; I wanted to be at home in White Plains listening to albums with my mother. I cried and cried and finally managed to fall asleep.

Saturday morning, I arrived at the Lansing airport for my 7:40 flight back to LA. I was trying to avoid the negative commentary that people felt obligated to share in the media. But standing there in this dinky airport, I overheard two men (White) voicing their judgment of Michael Jackson. I clutched my Bible and avoided confronting them. I wanted to ask them, “What have you done for the world?” “How have you changed the lives of billions of people worldwide?” Furthermore, they knew damn well that they owned MJ albums and could attribute some very successful dates to his music. Instead, I walked away and voiced my opinions to the attendant (Not White) at the ticketing counter. He smiled at me and said, “I know.” [tweet]

I spent most of the flight reading the books of Matthew and Mark. When I arrived at LAX, I felt the calm that one can only achieve when returning home. I spent the afternoon playing with Lucky, listening to Michael, and doing work. Sunday night, I watched the first hour of the BET Awards and was touched by several performances including Jamie Foxx’s opening and Ne-Yo’s performance of Lady In My Life. The best line of the show: “I want to thank all the haters for giving me a reason to do it.” Wow T-Pain; so deep, so relevant.

The next week, I went to work, I went to church, and I caught up with my students, all while wearing my black fedora. On Thursday, a week after Michael left us, I made my pilgrimage to Neverland. We intended to camp but it was mostly a stop and go crowd. I touched the gates, reached out to other pilgrims, and headed back to LA.

The next morning, I waited anxiously for the press conference announcing the ticket process for the planned memorial. [tweet] Instead, they announced a worldwide lottery for 8,750 pairs of tickets. I began to reflect on the need for a worldwide lottery when it came to these coveted seats and posted the following:

michael jackson memorial registration complete: it took michael’s entire life for us to achieve a global communication system sufficient to handle his passing. musician, icon, humanitarian, superstar, communication revolutionary.

At this point, the negative coverage of Michael Jackson was seeping into my media system, and I found myself in defense mode. Threats against Michael were threats against me. A friend of a friend responded to the above post with the following: “And child molester. I’m content to remember only the man’s music. Open the door a lil wider and you let in some creepy ghosts.” After exchanges that involved Mos Def quotes and industry credentials, I responded, “What good does remembering his faults do? Tarnish people’s mourning process? And for what?” I felt pretty good about that.

The truth is that people who insist upon judging Michael Jackson are nothing more than haters. They don’t necessarily hate Michael Jackson; rather, they hate the fact that millions around the world are rallying to celebrate him. They hate the positivity that these people express because of Michael. They hate that Michael preached a message of love that was heard by audiences worldwide who forgave him for his bad decisions (the only available fact), and continued to welcome him into their homes and their lives [tweet]. The haters’ only goal is to snatch the joy from Michael’s fans and get coverage for themselves. I assume that they do not take pleasure in repeating these horrible accusations. But then again, maybe they do take pleasure in judging others, but that pleasure is rooted in the desire for evil thoughts and actions.

Today, en route to the Staples Center, a man got on my building elevator while I was trying to put on my golden (ticket) bracelet. He clearly saw the excitement on my face as I said, “We’re going to see Michael!” In an act of pure hate, he loudly vocalized a frustration with “the celebration of a pedophile.” I turned to him and said, “He was found not guilty, and Michael did more for children than you ever will!” I felt good about that too.

In the midst of the negative press, no one discusses the fact that Michael Jackson held the world record for most charities donated to by a pop star (thank you Kobe for that knowledge); no one discusses that he gave everything he had to help suffering children around the world; no one discusses that his accuser beat cancer because of the treatments that Michael Jackson paid for. Michael Jackson was one of the most giving people in the world who was forced out of the United States to Bahrain by endless judgments of his character, a character that none of the people judging him understood. [tweet]

This is not to say that I understand or can even begin to know Michael Jackson, but all of the accusations and facts are a matter of public record. We know what he was accused of; we know the evidence presented and therefore, there is no need to talk about what you think or believe happened. If it matters what one person thinks and believes about another person they do not know, then allow me to share what I think and believe.

I think and believe that Michael Jackson was an amazing human being. I think and believe that he had a talent unparalleled, and more importantly, his willingness to share that talent and himself with the world was beyond human. I think and believe that Michael Jackson was incapable of harming a child, but may be guilty of loving too much. The facts are written in the history books; my love for him is written on my heart. And that’s all that needs to be discussed.

[tweet]

the cover to The Charisse Collection UNCENSORED DVD was designed to emulate the cover for Michael Jackson NUMBER ONES.

this monday i drove my car to USC and parked on vermont. i was in the building for 2 hours and when i returned (slightly worried about getting a ticket), there was a 8×11, bright orange flier on my car advertising tax preparation. every car on vermont had fallen victim. when i reached my car, i pulled the flier from under my windshield wiper and let it fall under my car. usually, i would toss it in my car and put it in the trash later, however, i was tired of picking up other people’s litter. this tax preparer hired someone to affix litter to my car! and when that litter hits the ground and officially becomes litter, am i the litterer? it was still litter when it was on the hood of my car! and the name of the perpetrator is on the piece of litter!

in short, car fliers should be considered illegal. paper does not become litter when it hits the ground, its litter when it becomes unwanted.  furthermore, the guilty parties write their name and number on the piece of litter. maybe next time i will collect all of them and dump the litter at their place of business.

i apologize for my absence, but my current state of affairs deserves some comment…
it has been a long time since i have posted anything on this site. life has been very busy but moving in a good direction. this summer i worked in my lab, worked as a graduate assistant for the mcnair program at USC, and completed my masters thesis (technically to be submitted on monday). i also moved into a new spot about 4 blocks away from my old place. same neighborhood, infinitely better building. i was done with the old one anyway.

in my new apartment, i do not have a television [i’ll give you a minute to catch your breath]. i was tired of the clunky 8sqft cube of a TV that i had in my old spot, and it was flat screen or nothing. i was excited; but the day after i moved in, i rubbed my car against a pole in my new parking lot resulting in about $5000 worth of damage. the TV got postponed.

i like living without a television. i have a projector for movies and video games [you haven’t lived until you have played guitar hero on a 10ft screen] and my building has a media room with cable. its nice to be distanced from TV; i still go down to the media room to watch important things like the olympics and the presidential debates, and i dose a little at the gym, but my life has been strangely de-media-fied.

on that note, i listen to more internet radio now. i have started listening to NPR and KPCC (NPR out of pasadena community college). its entertaining stuff. i’ve never been a fan of talk radio, i don’t like people talking at me and not being a part of the conversation - but i find it relaxing to be an observer.

although i’m getting a little sick of media in any form [TV, Radio, Internet, NYTimes, Facebook] as it is inundated with political mumbo-jumbo. i am beginning to believe that there is nothing else going on in the world. thank heavens for the economist; their format ensures a discussion of other continents. furthermore, their political logic really speaks to me and addresses the issues that i find in the media that, of course, the media never talks about.

i’ve always tried not to take sides regarding politics. in the words of stan marsh, “I’d better get used to having to pick between a douche and a turd sandwich because it’s usually the choice I’ll have.” however, the 2008 election makes me wish i was a dedicated voter, because the crap that keeps coming out of the television is starting to drive me crazy. but i’ll save that for its own posting. if i were dedicated to one party, i could be excited for it; instead, now i’m just cynical about both…

moving on. i’ve been reading infidel by ayaan hirsi ali, an amazing story about a woman born in somalia struggling against the political turmoil and the muslim brotherhood. its phenomenal and offers perspective in our old, big spending, do nothing, me first, country second Washington crowd…

wait. nevermind.

I just finished reading an article in Time magazine entitled, “Liking What White People Like,” which is a commentary on the blog  “Stuff White People Like.” The author goes on to talk about the benefit of having White people critique/mock/endorse White culture. However, as an individual of mixed heritage (Black and Chinese), the author finds herself in a quandary; she likes things that White people like!

She comes to grips with this racial divide over the course of the article, but her final conclusions leave much lacking. I truly enjoyed her postulation of what Mixed people like (“Having people guess their background… Pulling rank during conversations… Having ‘such good features’… Filling out applications”), especially since she admits, “these are things that mixed people say they hate… but secretly like.”

My qualm comes with the creation of Stuff That Mixed People Like; I think that it denies exactly what makes Multiethnic individuals interesting: the fact that no two multi-ethnics are alike. Not only is the community comprised of mixed ethnicity members, regardless of blend, but also their upbringing creates drastic differences between individuals, making group descriptions even more difficult. For example, how different would Barak Obama (everyone’s current favorite multiethnic) if his parents were switched and he was raised by a single Kenyan mother? How different would his upbringing or chances have been then? There is no single definition of multi-ethnics, or what they like, just the fact that they are multi-ethnic.

PS: Barak Obama is not #1 on my Stuff That Mixed People Like, its Prince.

i was debating on even voting at all, since a default vote is not appropriate during the primaries… i could explain this to you or you could just watch the video on realnews.com

the month of june was hellish, but everything that had to get done did get done and now we are into july. the summer is zipping along, but my july will be relatively relaxing (fingers crossed). i am going hiking with girlfriends, chillin’ in the bay area, reading books, and cruising through my netflix queue. today i will be watching my first hitchcock film, vertigo.

at the end of the month, i will be returning to NY for 11 days to celebrate the wedding of two very special people, the birthday of one of my favorite comedians, and the opportunity to not do my laundry. until then, get ready LA.

tomorrow is still technically SPORT DEATH DAY. nestled among a historical week of tragedies (virginia, oklahoma, waco, columbine), i understand the potential arguments for and against “sporting death.” however, for those of us who are in the know, we are aware that this phrase, this symbol, and (what i had hoped for) the day has the potential to be a show of support, individuality, and nerd power. having said that, i will be wearing my pin, [and i did put those in the mail this week for anyone that requested them (see pictures)] but perhaps wearing SPORT DEATH to work may make life difficult for my fellow haüsmates.

so if you do choose to sport death tomorrow, please do so with love and in memoriam. do send pictures if you can, and i still intend for this to be an annual day. and i hope to see even more pictures next year.

SPORT DEATH DAY

NOTE: i suppose this is less of an issue for those of you on campus, but if it is, i’d love to hear about it. cause there are a lot of folks at MIT that just don’t get it.

i read a great article last week entitled “not with eddie” in the LA weekly about an experience that seems appropriate in los angeles: the deconstruction of idols.

LA is the origin and endpoint of the american dream, or at least one very large, well-lit facet of it. it is all to common to spot celebrities around town, however, when they are no longer surrounded by paparazzi, models, and millions of crooning fans, we continue to frame them like posters on a wall.

two years ago, i was working at the children’s hospital los angeles (CHLA). while walking through the halls, i spotted and elderly, disheveled man walking towards me. he wore a beat up army jacket that was far too large for his frame, and his wrinkled face peeked out from a wool cap that seemed to engulf his head. i thought to myself, “that’s strange, i wouldn’t expect a homeless person wandering through the hospital.”

as we approached each other, i noticed he was looking very intently at me; as we got closer, i watched him give me the up/down. i was uncomfortable, but intrigued, and i couldn’t look away from his face. just as we passed each other, it clicked…

oh shit… that’s bob dylan.

i turned around and stared as he continued his walk down the hall. it was then i noticed that he was accompanied by two young women (under 30) and two small children. when i got to the office, i said to my boss, “i just saw bob dylan!” she informed me that his 2-year-old child was a patient.

go bob.

read “not with eddie.”

this weekend, i went to lake tahoe with some friends of mine for my annual snow sports vacation. this was my second attempt at snowboarding and despite my intimate acquaintance with the snow, i was told that i made amazing progress.

in the afternoon i felt confident and ventured out on my own. at first i took the easy blue/hard green track. then i traveled up to the caples crest traverse by accident. my lift mates commented on my balls at the attempt. i should have known better. i took a nasty spill and twisted my leg in a direction its not supposed to go. now i’m at home nursing my sprained ankle and a twisted knee. i hope it heals quickly, i’m eager to try again this season in socal. anyone interested?

see picures here:
snowboarding in lake tahoe

today i will be starting a new job at the pershing square ice rink in downtown los angeles as a rink guard. i’m pretty freaking excited! here’s me lacing up… come visit when you can. my shift will start proper next week.

i had an amazing evening tonight. i went out with some folks from high school who are really doing amazing things. its really fun to chat with these folks, especially back home; they’ve known me through a variety of stages, and missed quite a few others. however, tonight we were hanging out and a memory hit me like a wall of bricks. a not so proud memory, but clearly one of importance in my wild and crazy youth. and i conveyed it to my friend…

“do you remember…”

for future reference, if you are ever going to start a story with the phrase ” do you remember…” i highly recommend you stop, walk over to the person, and whisper it in their ear. i related this memory to my friend in a booming voice, and in reality he was only 5 feet away from me. the true embarrassment was when i realized that his father (who is actually very cool, but still a father), who i thought was upstairs, was on the other side of the door. [sigh].

i suppose this is a problem that i’ve always had, i don’t always recognize the volume of my voice, especially when i get excited, or a memory comes into my brain and out of my mouth with very little filtering. which, mind you, happens quite often.

it’s something i need to work on. and i suppose the first step is to admit it out loud. nice and booming. i have a flaw that embarrasses me regularly, and it is remarkably unrelated to media.

i don’t even know how to calculate that.

i hate the holidays. i despise the commercialization of christmas. but most of all, i can’t stand the repeated messages of how i’m *supposed* to feel during this time of year. commercial after commercial, various companies ask me if my man is buying me a diamond, how i deal with the craziness of family gatherings, and the feeling of being kissed under the mistletoe. well here you go best buy… i don’t have a man, my family is in the process of suing each other and pretending the others don’t exist, and i’ve never been kissed under the mistletoe.

but i’m not bitter.

today i got decked out in my mit best, brass rat, brass belt buckle, and sweatshirt. i had an exam in statistics that i really wanted to ace so i tried to put myself in the right mindset and clothing. i went in and was done in about 45 minutes. i was the first to leave and the professor commented, “that was fast.” but i did the exam, i didn’t know what else to do and i wasn’t going to sit there reading the textbook.

i got a cup of coffee and relaxed for a minute. i went to the bus stop and as soon as the bus came, a lovely little old man turned to me and said…

“mit, that’s the best school in the country! best school in the world!”

i said…

“i know!”

i hope i passed my exam.

yesterday was one of the best afternoons ever! i took a renegade usc/mit alums/cool dudes team over to the cal tech “gradiators.” we dominated every event! well aside from the jerk-offs on the rugby team [wink]. here were our standings at the end of the day:

WIN Shangria
WIN Competitive Ball Toll (Beer Pong) - 3:1
WIN Waterballoon Battleship - 2:1
LOS Kickball (vs. Rugby) - 4:9
WIN Red Rover - by forfeit
DIS Team Puzzle (vs. Rugby) - i think their still complaining about us taking the dance point, freestyle point, and yo mama’s point.
LOS Frisknock (vs. CNS)
WIN Obstacle Course

check out the mit/usc team pics here

there is a disconnect. an unsatisfied desire created by the intersection of what i want, what i need, and what i am led to believe that i want and need.

i just wanted to share.

sometimes you’re happy
and sometimes you cry

half of me is ocean
and half of me is sky.

–Tom Petty “Walls”

did the media make you crazy?
do you want to scream it from the rooftops?
while drunk in your swimsuit?

then join me for cocktails to celebrate the launch of themediamademecrazy.com v2.5 and charisse’s 25th on saturday, october 7 from 7-11pm.

feel free to bring your swimsuits, your talents, your instruments, your media (to be projected), and anything you’d like to contribute to the festivities (libations welcome).

On November 10, I submitted a paper examining whether physical immersion could induce psychological immersion. I reminisced about hours upon enlightening hours spent in Tep 23 and Warehouse 23, resulting in a very personal article. Three days later, I received the news. The man who had redefined my reality in almost every way possible, was gone.

I met Frostbyte in November of 1998 and spent countless hours in his company over the next year, eventually leaving MIT and moving into his warehouse in the fall of 1999. Frostbyte knew everything about everything and he made it his nightly duty to ensure the health and well being of his guests. He was an artist, a true immersive artist who, through countless methods, created environments to make others smile. For many of us, we know that Frostbyte’s smile was a special occasion. Often, he seemed too stressed to enjoy his own creations (although I am certain he derived pleasure from said stress) but, at some point in the evening, I would tap him on the shoulder and he would snap his head around, and smile at me. It was the biggest, most genuinely beautiful smile. His smile was infectious and made me forget everything else.

His home was more than a room or an apartment; it was a medium with which to create, a gallery to showcase said creations, and an amusement park for anyone ventured into his nest. At TEP, he filled 23 with hundreds of lights: traffic lights, neon twists, even an upside down plastic penguin, all of which flickered in perfect synch for his light shows. My request was always “Over the Hills and Far Away.” When the lights came down in 23, it was as if my entire freshman year had been a dream, it was as if our nights of pure bliss had never happened, it was as if the room was nothing more than a phantasm, a glorious figment of my imagination… until he developed the warehouse on Congress St.

Finally, he had all the space he needed to create an alternate universe. Stumbling from room to room, his visitors walked through mazes, projections, paintings, sculptures and other visitors. Frostbyte occupied a space that demanded more bodies; his visitors were integral to his work and his existence. He was far from antisocial, rather desperately social, and offered up his home and his self for the pleasure of others; he ensured that his visitors were comfortable, happy, and above all, satisfied.

Frostbyte did everything he could to make others smile, and, on more than one occasion, he saved me from myself. I loved him very much, as I know we all did. He altered my life and taught me to love myself as much as he loved me. I believe that Gladys Knight said it the best…

“I’d rather live in his world than live without him in mine.”

Some people consider me narcissistic

nar-cis-sism (n.)

1. Excessive love or admiration of oneself. See Synonyms at conceit .

2. A psychological condition characterized by self-preoccupation, lack of empathy, and unconscious deficits in self-esteem.

3. Erotic pleasure derived from contemplation or admiration of one’s own body or self, especially as a fixation on or a regression to an infantile stage of development.

4. The attribute of the human psyche characterized by admiration of oneself but within normal limits.

Ok. I am narcissistic. I realized about ten minutes ago that I am in love with my own image. I know that this will seem obvious to some of you but I was looking at my DVD cover and I realized that I really like my image. I daresay that I love my image.

But more importantly, I love the image that I have created of myself. And I find this to be a worthwhile endeavor, since I spent so much of my life despising an image that I could not control. My narcissism is not that of conceit, but a comprehensive exploration into how I view myself and how others view me.

Well, that and the fact that I am really hot. [smile]