The Man Behind the Curtain

I wish I could dance on a single prayer.
I wish I could be strong without somebody there.

-Scheiβe, Lady Gaga

I almost cried on Tuesday.

In public, on the 2 train, I almost shed a few tears.

Mind you, I haven’t cried in many years.

In fact, my next scheduled crying session

Was meant to be on my graduation.

It was a bizarre moment indeed. I was listening to Sheiβe by Lady Gaga which is a headbanger Europop song from her new album (available on iTunes). It’s not a Taylor Swift “Teardrops on My Guitar” where she literally sings about crying as she plays her guitar (typical). No, Sheiβe is upbeat and empowering. 

It also speaks to my two biggest insecurities. I started this post with two lines that resonate with me. 

MTA promoting paranoia.

I wish I could dance on a single prayer  (not a literal prayer, that’s blasphemous) - and act on my internal desires. I often tell myself at parties “if you want something, do something” but I don’t do. I don’t do me. 

This inhibition ties into the 2^nd line which resonates even more with me. 

I wish I could be strong without somebody there. 

I find it easy to be confident in front of people. I can dispel that aurora of “I know what I want and I’m working to get it”. It’s easy to adorn that persona and yet in the privacy of my thoughts I wear a different esteem garment. That dual confidence permeates into some aspects of my life-like relationships, and prevents me, I think, from viewing myself as a viable partner for someone. 

Real self-confidence is a solitary endeavor that involves you and only you. I’ve gotten better. Lord knows in elementary and high school, I did not have a high self-esteem. I was teased for being too dark and too smart. I now forever believe that black is beautiful and  intelligence allows people to make power life moves. 

I am eternally grateful to have attended Yale where I was forced to accept myself. We R who we R and it doesn’t hurt that at Yale and at home we have people who love us for being none other but ourselves. My friends are everything to me and I am blessed to have gotten close to the people I have. Thank you Yale.

As cheesy as it sounds, Gaga has helped me come to terms with 100% of myself. That last frontier. I don’t live in regret anymore. I was born this way baby.  

CHIDI: Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the great one of them all?

MAGIC MIRROR: Why you are Chidi.

CHIDI: Ugh, I know *flips hair* 

J 

I have this problem when I cry, on the few times my tear ducts produce tears. This is embarrassing to admit but here it goes.

When I cry, I can’t help but picture myself in an Oscar Award winning movie and my character is going through immense personal strugs. 

Crying soldier = Best Actor role

I picture the camera man zooming onto my face and sad classical music playing in the background. Sometimes I even try to simulate the single tear. Everyone knows that's the fastest track to winning fans’ hearts.

At first it seems ridiculous that I do this, and it is. But try it sometime. You’ll feel better  because it makes that portion of your life seem like a movie clip. You watch it, feel the emotion it elicits, and keep it moving. You have other award winning scenes to perform. 

Fashion. Put it all on me. Don't you want to see these clothes on me. 

-Fashion, Lady Gaga

So, I have a teenage drama queen confession.

I once posted on Yale FML and got 74 likes. Here is the comment:

"Missing: Spring. Last seen in 2010. If found please call 203-I WANT TO WEAR CUTE CLOTHING. FOL"

Perhaps the post was a bit dramatic but everyone knows that summer clothing > winter clothing. 

The weather this year was unrelentingly a mess. I remember one morning looking outside, seeing the snow for a 4^th time, and thinking "when did my life become set in an 18^th century gothic romantic novel?”  

How Yale's residential colleges look in the snow.

Then I pictured myself gazing outside a castle window with a blank stare. The director tells me more emotion. More! I shed a single tear.  Close my eyes. Clutch the crumpled handwritten letter in my hand with deep seated agony. My facial expression is that of caged ancient suffering. I take a prolonged deep...sorry. I got carried away. 

The weather did spur me to buy these delicious boots.  I feel manly wearing them. I feel like a lumberjack. 

My secret weapon for getting up science hill

So despite lumberjack boots, colorful hats, and cute gloves, cold wet weather hampers creative expression in fashion. Take a look at this picture for example. We are essentially dressed the same. 

Peacoat +  Hat = Winter wear

At Yale, we once had 2 days of nice weather where the temp reached 50ºC and everyone busted out summer dresses and flip flops. The campus was colorful and peppier. The trees decided that it was time to do their leaf thing and squirrels were even more freakishly rampaging through campus.

A quick word on squirrels:

Disgusting vermin.

The scene looked like this. 

Sophomore year, (I’ll never forget this) a squirrel invaded my common room, located my Skippy Peanut Butter, chewed through the cap and had the audacity to EAT my Peanut Butter. It did not pay for my peanut butter. It did not ask to enter my room. Heck, it wasn’t even a member of my species. 

WHO did this squirrel think it was? I had to teach it a lesson. I had to! This squirrel and its hungry relatives needed to know that you don’t mess with Chidi. My middle name is Crusher of Squirrel Dreams 

(actually Daniels). 

So I placed some of my now inedible peanut butter onto a plate and added sugar, spice, and nothing else nice. I purposefully added an extra ingredient to the concoction. Chemical X.

I had smuggled a few tablets (50 actually) of NaOH from lab and crushed it up into fine pieces. I sprinkled it on a plate of peanut butter and mixed it up real well. I may have done an evil laugh. In fact, I did. 

I then left it outside on my ledge and haven’t seen the squirrel since. I’m proud to say 

Homo Sapiens 1. Rodentia Sciuridae 0.

If more people did this type of important reconnaissance work the squirrels at Yale and the pigeons of NYC wouldn't be so rude. We have to take back our land Homo Sapiens. When did it become okay for squirrels to enter rooms? When did it become custom for pigeons not to fly away as you approach them? I literally have to change my walking trajectory to avoid these flying rats. These animals are truly too comfortable and its time we stop their encroachment onto human society. 

Back to fashion.

I love it. It’s in my jeans. Here’s a sample of the looks I’ve went through:

Haut trash couture.

.

Boys who grew up on Idaho farms. 

Dean pan.

And my all time favorite. I wore this outfit to high school and thought I looked good.

Who was I? Literally.

I may have been a repeat fashion offender. All part of growing up. 

Some notable looks I strived for: 

Urban preppy cool

Farm boy chic

Whore. 

(honestly who doesn't from time to time?)

And the moment you've all been waiting for...The Look for Senior Year is

Egyptian royalty meets Breakfast at Tiffany’s

Just kidding. That makes no sense. I am still figuring out what The Look will be. Do know that it’ll be heavily inspired by chains, trinkets, and colors. I want to push the envelope.  To quote an insightful line anyone dressing themselves should follow.  

You can do it your way, but don’t get crazy. 

                                                              –Bon Qui Qui

Unless you're Lady Gaga. She’s allowed to have complicated orders. 

And with that, I leave you with the picture below. Judas inspired.

Till Death Do Us Part,

Chidi “Crusher of Squirrel Dreams” Akusobi

Website of the day:

http://www.reddit.com/r/firstworldproblems/

Real World Problems: A site dedicated to the inconsequential problems we people in developed nations face: ie my whole blog entry today.

Favorite entry: “My co-worker didn’t refill the Brita Jug, so I had to drink tap water like an animal."

Priceless.