DukeEngage | Duke Center for Civic Engagement

While we’ve been here a couple songs have become more relevant than others. Here’s the condensed DukeEngage Jukebox

T-Pain – buy you a Drink
When getting ready to go out one night this song came on. There is a verse in the song that goes along the lines of:

Baby Girl
What's Your Name?
Let Me Talk To You
Let Me Buy You A Drink
I'm T-Pain, You Know Me
Konvict Music Nappy Boy Like Oh Wee

I found the geinius in the fact that T-Pain and Tim Burns are two syllable “T” words. With this fact and some misplaced lyrics it became:

I’m Tim Burns
What’s your name?
Lemme talk to ya
Lemme buy you a Drank

And there is even a little Lean with it/Roc with it kind of dance associated with it. We decided that the best place to use this would be at Essence Music Festival, I would get so many numbers I would need to start deleting my friends to make more room.

Natasha Bedingfield - Pocket Full of Sunshine
I have a habit of rocking out to music when I listen to it. Sam has said that she enjoys watching me listen to lip sync or just listen. Apparently music + me = spectator sport. We were in the car listening to this song which has a chorus:

Take me away: A secret place.
A sweet escape: Take me away.

Take me away to better days.
Take me away: A higher place.

Most of which is sung in very high pitched voice. As I said, I get into music. As it goes through the chorus other people in the car start laughing… at the horrible falsetto I’m singing in. It gets to the point that Lauren turns off the music quickly in the next chorus and I’m through half a line before I notice. So now my singing is a huge joke that comes up fairly often. For example any number of Justin Timberlake or Chris brown songs, Estelle – American Boy, etc.

Flobots – No Handlebars
We turned this song on halfway through on the way home one night. The unknown status of the artist and the odd lyrics made me think it was one of those anti-drug commercials. They get a decent beat and a washed up rapper to sing about staying straight or how they were doing great until they got addicted or whatever. This commercial just kept going. We tried to surf the channels away from the commercial but it was still on when we got back. When I heard it another time from the start I started liking it. Sushma has learned the violin part to it because it was stuck in her head for such a long time. Danny growns when it’s on because I played it so often in a short period.

I can ride my bike with no handlebars
No handlebars
No handlebars

I can ride my bike with no handlebars
No handlebars
No handlebars

Look at me, look at me
hands in the air like it's good to be
ALIVE
and I'm a famous rapper
even when the paths're all crookedy

You can see why one might mistake it for a crappy anti-drug commercial, but do take a listen, it really is good.

Bon Jovi – You Give Love a Bad Name/Livin on a Prayer
This is much more just a small one between Ryan and me. We took a disaster tour a few weeks as all good tourists do (it’s now state law to do so). As we sat in the bus waiting for the tour guide Ryan and I commented “look at sleeveless over there rocking the high work boots,” pointing to a shorter guy in a cutoff tee, jean shorts, and tall black work boots. “Who? Jon Bon Jovi haircut?” Our tour guide had the hair of Yahweh known as Jon Bon Jovi.Livin on the Bayou or Livin on a Prayer?

All through the tour and now the summer Ryan and I make references to these songs or singing other ballads to each other (ie Meatloaf – I’d Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That)). Ryan told his brother and father about the good fortune of our guide with the text “It’s as if our guide sat down in the barber chair and pointed to his head saying ‘Bon Jovi now!’” So now on top of the ballads anytime a haircut is referenced there is the question of “So are you going to get a Bon Jovi?” Did I mention that on our tour there was a girl hold in up a sign for alms that said she was in fact “Living on a prayer. Anything helps”

Coincidence or fate?
 

The title has nothing to do with this blog. It’s more of a statement of fact entirely unrelated to a discussion of race and culture. This’ll just be the part two to my last one on race. Forgive me Sam, this is where it gets more murky and the language more messed up. It’s going to be tough for me to put such abstract ideas down in words so if it doesn’t make sense… I don’t know. So starting from the last post where Sam Griffin didn’t want to go to Bruno’s.

Sam didn’t like how when we go to Bruno’s the majority of the time most people are standing around talking and imbibing. She likes and wanted to dance. I can appreciate that, I feel the same way. We don’t’ need to go to Bruno’s to catch up on the times, we can have a good ole time sitting comfy as clams on couches in the commons chit chatting casually (double word score for alliteration). Going out to listen to good music and dance is not a Bruno’s activity. Sam believes this has something to do with a difference in culture, the black culture she grew up in tended toward dancing more when going out, but what she believes white culture more commonly stands and talks when out. At least I think that’s what she meant. I only got the gist of her complaint, not the deep reasoning (as hard as she tried to explain it to me). She wanted to dance, not stand around and didn’t want it to be going out with the black girls, just going out to a dance club with a group.

Culture as I think of it is like a collective past; memories, traditions and beliefs that influence and shape the next generation. I believe there is much more a national culture than one of race. British culture or American culture, not white culture or black culture. Just because someone is white doesn’t mean they have the same collective past as I, their past may be quite different from mine. I also don’t believe a black girl has to necessarily have a different culture from a white girl. It just doesn’t have to be like that. Now if you’re raised differently and grow up dancing at parties instead of standing around, well then okay, you’ve got your own thing going on. I just don’t think (and let me preface these thoughts now by saying they are not in response to Sam’s sentiments that night or any other) that because you’re white you’ll probably prefer less dancing to more. In the Burns household and at family things like weddings if there’s music you dance, whether in the kitchen to the radio or at Uncle Paul’s wedding with a live band we like to dance. It just happened that the night of Bruno’s some people I hadn’t seen in a while were collecting at Bruno’s so that’s where I wanted to be. Sam wanted to dance so that wasn’t opportune for her.

I think I’m entirely off topic, probably making a better point that I don’t like generalizations and how, in some cases, they seem to be called culture or tradition after a long enough time. If that seems like the case sorry, but I think at least some of my ideas came out of that one. I just don’t see how or why there should be a huge separation between white and black. I was asked at one point on this trip if I really enjoyed hanging out with the black girls or if it was just a cultural experience, a novelty that would wear off soon. I don’t like that a question like that should even need to be asked. If I ask Shantel about Yaki weaves or gov’ment names it’s because she has dealt with such things before and knows what they are. I think it’s similar to if she asked me about say wrestling or carpentry. I know about them because I wrestled for thirteen years and have worked with my hands all my life, they’re just the products of different childhoods. And maybe the products of different childhoods are what culture is and maybe, and maybe I just don’t know.

Do you have a better idea?

**UPDATE 7/25/08- Sam replied to Part I & II with a blog of her own. It makes things more interesting and I think it is more or less correct.

Race is a funny issue for me. I grew up in a predominantly white neighborhood and high school. Predominantly as in 99%. We could name the black kids that went to my high school, all seven. There was an Asian girl, but she graduated the year before me there were no Indians or Hispanics. Like I said, white. Diversity was being either Italian, Irish or eastern European. I came to Duke never worrying or caring about race relations because I didn’t deal with it. It never really came up. I realized it existed, but didn’t really get the point of a single “black culture” (contrasted with a single “white culture”). I believed it could be simply the product of a different environment growing up. It may be like growing up in the southwest, not the same as West Pittston, Pennsylvania, just different.

So I got to Duke and hung out with white, black, Asian, Indian and Hispanic people, a new kind of diversity than the kind at my high school. I didn’t and still do not see it as this totally different culture. Last night the group was going to go out to Bruno’s, but Sam Griffin didn’t want to go. Sam is one of four black girls in the NOLA group. The clientele at Bruno’s is very white crowd. Sam stated quite clearly that night that she was not going because she didn’t want to be a ‘black girl’ that night, she just want to be a “girl. Not a ‘black girl’ but just a girl.” She was tired of being the token black girl and being asked to explain elements of “black culture.” When she went to Bruno’s with the whole group there were four black people in the packed bar… three were from Duke.

I’ve been sitting with Sam and her suite trying to get my words right, but I can’t just yet. I think I may need to stop and come back to it. So get ready for a part II

Oh and the title a fantastically out of context quote suggested by Miss Sam Griffin.
 

I've been slacking on this blog big time. If it weren't for hitting Danny I would be two weeks back. I wanted to tell the story so much I wrote a blog about it, then when I was busy/tired Sunday night I didn't have to write a blog since I had gotten one I didn't write another. Regardless of the reasons it's now been a solid week and a half since I last wrote so it's time for a new one.

This time, it’s more observational topics. Second verse same as the first. Just two short bits on different things I’ve been seeing unrelated to work:

It’s been mentioned a few times both in big groups and in smaller conversations that we’re an active group. When I’m leaving for work in the morning I usually see Lauren coming back from a run, by the time I’ve gotten home Madison has already worked out and within twenty minutes Felicia and Britney have left for the gym, Ryan is getting Danny or Abby to play basketball. All these people (and more) are doing things right after work. I usually end up playing frisbee, doing pushup-power-half-hour or weights, and following that up with 10 or 15 minutes of abs. We’re quite a fit bunch. This is all well and good, but I end up getting the shaft when everyone is done and showered, looking to go to eat at seven and I’m still doing stuff till 8:30 or so. So when I’m looking for a dinner group everyone has either gone already or is staying home. The reasoning for why I’m still working when they’re ready to go is that I have exercise induced bulimia. A good ‘ole fashion binge and purge. Supposedly I binge on sweets or Burger King and then purge it all away with work outs. It’s not the case, nevertheless that joke has become a go-to move by some of the people here. I think it’s pretty clever.

The boys’ suite, compared at least to the girls’, is somewhat stereotypical. Yesterday when Felicia needed cooking supplies and ask Danny if we had tin foil or a baking pan he gave her a blank look and “really?” amazed that she’d even bother to ask. We have no ingredients, no chicken, no spices. We lack both noodles and sauce. We don’t even have a pot or spatula. There’s really no need for such things. Our cupboards are filled with cereal and peanut butter. Some people have gone the extra mile and gotten bagel bites or precooked meals.
Besides food there is the fact that the boys’ room has for much of the summer been the place people congregate. After work people come by to see what everyone is doing. We have a stereo and more recently a television. I have a long Ethernet cord and the closest room in the suite so there is also a computer with internet. It seems, to me at least, that the boys have a more open suite, not surprised to come out of your room or bathroom to see people in the common space.
I like it this way. People being around remind me of PA with all of my siblings home, when I can come out of my room and there’re people in the living room. At least one person is always doing something you can join in on. It also reminds me of Maxwell for the same reasons. Having people in the suite, whether my suitemates or other Duke kids, just makes it feel more homely.

I know I’ve got more to say, but this is enough for now.

I’m still alive with ten fingers and toes and haven’t been arrested. Life is good.
 

I broke Danny Mammo’s nose.

I’ve never broken any bones, I’ve never seen one broken. I suppose that only stood until today. See, I had decided to start writing the next great American novel. I was about fifty words in when Danny told me I probably couldn’t do it because I don’t know how to spell (Ryan Bird is typing this, I’m just dictating). So I kicked him in the face and told him never ever give up on his dreams. Because really, who was he to tell me I can’t write a novel just because I don’t know how to write? He’s barely a counts as a full person. I didn’t want to, but let’s face it, it’s better to be feared than loved.

Ok, that may be a bit of an exaggeration.

In reality we were playing ultimate frisbee with the Yale kids and the disc was overthrown. Danny had been covering and I got to the disc first. I saw one of my guys wide open so I grabbed the disc fast, reached back and threw it as hard as I could—except—I can only assume he was rushing to cover me with his hands down by where the motion of my throw began, down by my thigh. My hand released and continued up near shoulder height… up near Danny Mammo face height. Well, there’s a reason it’s called ‘ultimate’ frisbee. I didn’t notice it at the time, because my arm hurt, but people said there was a loud noise like bone snapping. As I said earlier, I’ve never been present for a broken bone, but I’m going to trust their instincts.
After getting past the initial feeling of hitting my arm hard and seeing Danny drop I grabbed my nalgene. I needed to wash my arm to check if any of the blood was mine and try to wash out any cuts between Danny and I. Luckily, other people must have gone through something like this and realized to get him clean wet shirt to hold to his face instead of my plan of simply and repeatedly pouring water on it. In the initial rush we quickly called EMS, but just after calling realized that Danny was fine enough to not need to be ambulanced to the emergency room and could be taken by car. You see, car is free, ambulance is a quick half a grand.
Once Danny was secured and we knew how he would get to the emergency room people checked in on me. Apparently Danny’s got himself a sharp shnoz or something because I had/have what could be called a little chunk missing from my arm. People were calling for stitches but when EMS arrived (after Danny had left with Luke for the ER), I asked him if I’d be ok without. The paramedic, complete with a plug of tobacco in his front lip, replied that I’d have a scar but “unless you plan on going into a career in arm modeling you’ll be just fine.” So I pinched my arm together and loped home for a band-aid and an ice pop, one arm chunk lighter.

Oh, and the throw was complete.