A Grand Collection of Strangers

What do we learn about the people we come across everyday?  We interact with a multitude most seconds throughout the day, and yet that interaction is minimal, at best.  How much does it take to say a quick "Hello"  or  to greet the person walking past you with a little bit more than some cheap smile that seems pasted on for the occasion?

We are a grand collection of strangers, and yet we wonder where the humanity has gone.

I was born and raised in the South, an area of the United States that has now come to be as well known for its prevailing hospitality and charm, as it once was known for prejudice and pain.  If this area can, at least on the surface, embrace a sort of innate camaraderie for the fellow man, why does it seem so hard elsewhere.  I am new to the DC area, but quickly learning that people here do not speak.  While there are flashes of the Southern "Hello"s and "Good morning"s that I've grown accustomed to, they are few and far between.  Most people move to the beat of anonymity, as if it were the very tune blasting from the headphones crammed into most peoples ears.  Ears that refuse to listen.  Maybe because they've grown accustomed to most people never saying anything.

It just strikes me as odd, that as I sit here typing this, at a patio table, in a very public place, very few of the 50 or so people who have passed me have offered up more than a curious passing glance.  Eye contact leads to either an awkward smile or that ill-tempered look just short of annoyance.  And issuing a "Good morning"  usually gets a muffled one in return, if you're lucky.  Usually, it is ignored.

Maybe I'm just an idealist.  But I remember people being a bit more friendly.  I remember a time when, not so long ago, people were at least willing to communicate.

Most days, unless my mood is overly effected by some life issue that I find it too difficult to ignore, I try to at least speak to one stranger.  Engage them in a conversation that may or may not brighten both our days, but definitely can't hurt.   Why?  Because I don't ever want to lose the humanity in me.  And often, it's these conversations with strangers that reminds me just how connected we all really are.

Don't become just another person lost in the collection.  Ask the next person you see how their day is going.  You might be surprised what you discover.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Things That Make You Go Hmmm...

Okay, this didn't make me go hmmm....this made me yell out "what?!?", and left a deep sense of outrage building within me.  I've been trying my best to grasp how this could be considered justice in anyone's mind.

A little while ago, I read a story that breaks my heart.   Raquel Nelson, a single mother from Marietta, GA, has been living through a nightmare.  On April 10, 2010, she and her three children got off at a bus stop across from their apartment.  They then attempted to cross a four-lane highway, and were struck by a van.  Nelson's 4-year-old son, A.J., was killed.

This in itself would be a tragedy most would not be able to endure.  But the legal system decided to make it much worse.  Because Nelson did not use a crosswalk, the nearest of which was more than a quarter of a mile away, she was charged with second-degree vehicular homicide, reckless conduct, and failure to use a crosswalk.  On July 12, she was convicted of these charges, and faced more prison time than the man driving the van.

Yes, that's right!  Jerry Guy, the driver of the van that killed Nelson's son, served 6 months in prison for hit-and-run and was released on Oct. 29, and serving 5 years probation.  But Guy has two prior convictions for hit-and-run, and served half of a two year sentence for those convictions.  Hearing that, I don't see how anyone could attempt to convict her of more time than a man who obviously doesn't belong behind the wheel of anything.

Nelson was eventually sentenced to 40 hours of community service and a year probation, but the fact that she was charged at all makes me angry.  I understand that using a crosswalk is the law, but the fact that it was so far away, and previously complained about by residents of the same apartment complex, should have brought extenuating circumstances into play.  Plus, Raquel Nelson already has to deal with the fact that her son is dead.  How is charging her for this accident, which occurred at the hands of a known reckless driver, considered justice?

And we wonder why faith in the system is so badly shaken.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

I've Got the First-Novel Editing Blues

Lately, I've been fine tuning the novel I finished last March.  That still sounds odd, and a bit frustrating, when I think about it, because I always thought when I finished my first novel, life would suddenly change.  But I'm prepared to do the work to change it, and it begins with preparing my work to be submitted.

Oh my God, editing is a pain in the ass.  There is no cutesy or less offensive way to say it.  Especially for fellow writers who, like me, find themselves nitpicking over every single word.  I promise that earlier today, I rewrote a sentence 17 times.  It was perhaps more exhaustion that made me move on to the next sentence instead of truly being satisfied.  And I realize this is a problem.  The first rule of writing has always been to simply write.  Let the words flow and worry about editing later.  I'm not sure what the first rule of editing should be.  Prepare for headaches and self-loathing.  (I've called myself a hack of a writer more times than I care to admit.)

But I think this is a good thing.  Having that ability to say "Okay, this is crap!!", is the first step to becoming better.  And I get less frustrated because I realize that even though I finished the novel last March, I know I wasn't as satisfied with it as I want to be.  Eventually I want to write a work of fiction that gets my name added to this list.  

And the only way to get there is by putting forth the effort such an accomplishment deserves.

A little bit of patience certainly helps.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Requiescat in Pace, Amy Winehouse (September 14, 1983 – July 23, 2011)

So I heard the news earlier today that British singer-songwriter Amy Winehouse was found dead in her London apartment.  I took this news hard because she has been one of my favorites since her debut on the music scene in 2003.  I had always hoped that the talented young singer would put whatever troubles she was dealing with behind her and make a stunning return to the top of the music charts.  Back to Black was such a definitive music statement, so hopefully her musical legacy lives on.

Later, I got into a conversation with a friend about the so called 27 Club, after hearing about Amy's death.  I don't want to make light of any of the musician's lives whose names appear on that list, by linking their deaths to some supposed curse.  But I have to note the interesting coincidences in the patterns those lives took and how they all came to an untimely end.  Amy Winehouse was an amazing songwriter with the type of voice you can't help but listen to.  We should remember her for that, not simply the bad choices she made in life.  And since, at this time, the cause of her death is unknown, it is a bit premature to look at this as a tragic result of those choices.

I remember her for the music.  I remember many nights when her lyrics soothed whatever emotional ails I had at the time.  I remember the vibrant singer who burst into my consciousness with hypnotic vocals and a personality as lovable as it was rebellious.  The world not only lost a very talented artist, but also a young woman who some called daughter, sister, as well as friend.




This is the Amy Winehouse that made me a fan.  And these are some of my favorite tracks by the 5-time Grammy winner.  R.I.P. Amy.  May your music forever live on.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Back to School, Again, Again....

So at the end of last year, after not being enrolled in college since February of 2000, I began taking classes for my bachelor's degree in English, at the University of Phoenix.  Although I was excited to be back in school again, I was hesitant about attending this school, because people I talked to had negative reviews about it.  I worried that any degree I obtained would be frowned upon, as well as overpriced.  Interestingly enough, I wouldn't be a student there long enough to find out.  In May, I decided to withdraw from the University of Phoenix because my move to Maryland meant I could no longer get the same degree.  Makes no sense, right?  An exclusively online university has stipulations on what degree you can receive, based on where you live.  Crazy!

So I've been looking at other schools since then, mainly ones in the Maryland area, and today I am overjoyed.  Today, I went to the open house at UMUC.

They had an open house near the Largo area.  It was really informative, I got my application submitted, talked with a financial aid adviser, and even looked at the first course I'd be taking.  I'm really excited about the ability to minor in Journalism at UMUC, along with my English major.  These are the two areas I've always been trying to decide between, and now I'll get a strong foundation in both of them.  So finally, I'm back in school.  Again.  Again.   You get the point.

All in all, today was a very pleasant experience, minus the sweltering heat blanketing the DC area.  Right now, I'm really excited, grabbing a bite to eat at L'Enfant Plaza, before calling it an afternoon.

Hopefully you all are enjoying your weekend, and most importantly, beating the heat.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet