We used to have bunk beds. But not directly underneath each other. Our beds formed a giant "T" and I was on top. In the middle of the night I'd jump down. He was already awake. We had to check.
"Did Santa come yet?"
Operation Catch The Fat Man was in effect. But the thing is, we didn't want to see Santa. We wanted to see a tree nearly toppled over with presents. So we'd crawl out the room commando-style, on our elbows. Then climbed down the stairs, headfirst, on our hands. A year never went by that we didn't make at least two failed search and rescue mission attempts. But when we finally found success, when the present finally spilled out into the living room floor and I swear our heart simultaneously skipped a beat, we'd slide down the stairs in what was now a stealth mission. We'd touch the boxes, shake them, put our ears to them. We'd try to figure out if there was a way that we could open at least one of them without destroying the wrapping paper. Then we'd hear a noise in the kitchen and vanish like ninjas.
Santa's not catching us red-handed. HA!
Then we're back in the bed speculating on the contents of the boxes. And of course we'd have to discuss how long we needed to wait before we woke our parents up. Had to figure out the balance between being present-thirsty children and developing an ulcer from the wait. Sunrise was the deadline.
Once everyone got up there was more waiting. We had to attempt to not look like savages. But once the first piece of paper was torn, there was a roar, more tearing, a hug, a cry, a kiss, more tearing. A blur of too little boys racing around. More tearing. Then all the paper was gone. And we'd be dressed in brand new clothes and in our rooms playing video games and waiting for the first piece of ham to get cut.
Thanks Mom. Oops I mean... Santa... right Santa.
Suddenly it's Day Number 365. Happy Birthday Mom. I'm not into resolutions. Everyday should be the start of a resolution. You should try to make yourself better everyday. Not pick a day to start being the person that you want to be. With a 365-day deadline to accomplish those goals. It's failure waiting to happen. Gotta say that 2008 was interesting to say the very least. Gained friends. Lost friends. Found myself. Lost myself. Then found myself again. So thank you God for allow me another year to get it right.
Randomness....
My 1st Song by Jay-Z. Love that song. ... Treat my first like my last and my last like my first. .... Snow is fun to watch. I'm good on the snowballs fights though. ... How I look being a grown ass man getting blasted in the face with the frozen ball of snow. ... I had like three weeks with no text messaging and as much as I feel like I should be pissed off about that it was pretty liberating. Well, except for the $184 phone bill that arrived because people call you when they see you're not responding to texts. .... Funny how snow, like everything else, is flawless and perfect unless Man fucks it up. .... Apparently I have a room full of issues that I keep to myself and one of my best friends says that it's an asthma attack waiting to happen. ... No, I don't have asthma. But we get the point. ... It'a aight. I got a room that's only for him. .... I think Gym is gonna divorce me. She's filing on ground of spousal neglect. I can't blame her. .... I've been cheating with Ms. Procrastination. I hate that bitch. I really do. But I can't leave her alone and she refuses to leave me alone. ... I cried for the first time in years the other night. ... Same night I laughed my ass off. ... Knicks still suck balls. But their not unbearable to watch anymore and I'm still going to watch every game I can. ... Speaking of which Carmelo got biz in the fourth quarter Sunday and the follow-up Donte Jones caught looked like he gave one dude in the nose-bleed seats a high-five before he dunked it. ... Holidays are fun for kids. The fun part for the adults should be making it fun for the kids. ... I can't stop listening to 808 and Heartbreak. ... Maybe that's why I feel depressed sometimes. ... Two weeks without blogging made some people mad at me. ... Don't worry it made me mad at myself. .... It's funny that I start these blogs having no idea what I'm going to write. ... Then I end up with long ass blogs like this one. .... I actually asked someone to "step outside" the other day. I never thought I'd actually do that. Normally, I'd just smack them in the face. Guess I'm maturing. .... I'm probably the most affectionate person you know. ... It's funny how I wrote a blog about Christmas morning on New Year's Eve. .... Oh well, it's my blog. ... Let me know. Do I still go time to grow. Things ain't always set in stone. Let me know. Let me know. .... The only thing I know for sure about next year is that it will be 2009. I don't like it that way but that's the way life is. .... If my biggest worry is not knowing what's going to happen tomorrow then I'm doing just fine. I'm just happy that tomorrow is a possibility. ..... I love me. You should too.
C
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
From the mouthpiece...
Let me keep it funky and say that I never attempt to speak on behalf of all men. In fact, no man should try to speak on behalf of all men. And while we're there, women shouldn't ask a man to speak on behalf of all men.
With that said, what I'm going to write about is based on my own experiences and those of men that I'm closely associated with. It may extend to men outside my circle but if you're a female and reading this please don't run to you're man talking bout.. AH HA, I read C's blog and he said you're acting this way because.....
Don't blame me.
Commitment issues. Lots of guys have them. Lots of women do too, contrary to popular belief (which comes from the propaganda spread by evil men-hating women). Men aren't sluts by nature. People are. Men don't pipe everything that is presented in front of them. Good men don't have that amount of trouble finding ways to have sex. With that said, there are more reasons that men start smashing the breaks when it's time to cross over into Wifeyville. Understand that as much as women have been hurt by men, men have also been hurt by women. And not wanting to put a title on a relationship can just as often have to do with submitting emotions and feelings to a female as is it can be about still wanting to plow shorty around the corner.
There are dudes that are perpetual wifers. I'm not referring to those gentlemen.
Actually being in a relationship is to give to someone something that you had full control over before. They can control your feelings, affect your day, have an effect on your life. It's not just about monogamy. Or at least it shouldn't be.
It's about someone expecting things of you and you agreeing to adhere to those expectations.
Why is it that when women have their guards up it's because men are slime buckets but when men have their guards up it's because they are whores who want to hold on to their whoredom??
Let me make one thing clear: It's not socially acceptable for men to be whores. Women don't accept that and men don't care about what other men do. Men aren't patting each other on the back for having a truckload of sexual conquests. Whether a guy slept with 3 girls or 300 girls, other guys couldn't care less. Women care. And women don't find that particularly attractive either. Plus, if you really think about it, girls that are jumpoffs get wifed up too. So who's really judging them?? Think about it. Women.
Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.
I digress. I guess I'm starting the All Men Aren't Scumbags Campaign. What we sometimes can be is simply scared. Yeah, I said it. Men can also be afraid to be hurt, afraid to be played, afraid to mess shit up, afraid that things are going to change because sometimes once you enter Wifeyhood, things do change. Sometimes they don't. So if your dude asks you to be patient with him and he's there for you all the time anyway, don't jump to decide that he's clearly ramming ever chick in a 20-block radius, try to understand what is inhibitions are. Find out why he is the way he is and feels the way he feels. The same as you would expect from him.
Randomness.....
There was an old guy in the train station with probably six teeth in his mouth and a boombox at his side and could sing 50 times better than most artists with a deal right now. .... I need someone to go to Rockefeller Center and sign this dude. He was beasting Sam Cooke songs. ... If the Giants lose one more game I'm going to go out to Jersey and start throwing rocks at passing limos and Escalades. .... Why the hell have I felt tired every single day for nearly the passed two weeks? ... The best way to say I'm sorry is with good head. ... The best way to say hello is with good head. ... Best way to say goodbye is with good head. .... Ahh head is great. ... For some reason I've been looking at people in the street lately and thinking about how'd I'd dress them. .... I been disappointed in myself a lot lately. ... I've been proud of the Knicks even when they lose. ... Didn't think I'd ever say that. .... People in general are full of shit. ... You spit like a llama and you look like a llama. .... You know who you are. ... I went to the mall the other day and all I have to see if I see Santa I swear we gonna have to shot the fair one. .... I miss a good game of Hustle. ... Just cause you like sex that doesn't make you a freak. .... Just cause you "never got any complaints" doesn't mean you're good at it. ... Heroes is one of the best TV dramas in the history of TV. ... Shoutout to them having a black actor play the president. Now that's Obama fo yo mama. ... I need a new pair of jeans like nobody's business. ... T.I.'s album is crack. So is Kayne's. Luda's cd is aight. ... I haven't cut my facial hair in like two months and I still don't have a goatee. This is bullshit. ... I'd keep writing but my laptop is gonna die. ... In my mind, I'm listening to the Miseducation of Lauryn Hill.
Ya'll already know what it is.
C
With that said, what I'm going to write about is based on my own experiences and those of men that I'm closely associated with. It may extend to men outside my circle but if you're a female and reading this please don't run to you're man talking bout.. AH HA, I read C's blog and he said you're acting this way because.....
Don't blame me.
Commitment issues. Lots of guys have them. Lots of women do too, contrary to popular belief (which comes from the propaganda spread by evil men-hating women). Men aren't sluts by nature. People are. Men don't pipe everything that is presented in front of them. Good men don't have that amount of trouble finding ways to have sex. With that said, there are more reasons that men start smashing the breaks when it's time to cross over into Wifeyville. Understand that as much as women have been hurt by men, men have also been hurt by women. And not wanting to put a title on a relationship can just as often have to do with submitting emotions and feelings to a female as is it can be about still wanting to plow shorty around the corner.
There are dudes that are perpetual wifers. I'm not referring to those gentlemen.
Actually being in a relationship is to give to someone something that you had full control over before. They can control your feelings, affect your day, have an effect on your life. It's not just about monogamy. Or at least it shouldn't be.
It's about someone expecting things of you and you agreeing to adhere to those expectations.
Why is it that when women have their guards up it's because men are slime buckets but when men have their guards up it's because they are whores who want to hold on to their whoredom??
Let me make one thing clear: It's not socially acceptable for men to be whores. Women don't accept that and men don't care about what other men do. Men aren't patting each other on the back for having a truckload of sexual conquests. Whether a guy slept with 3 girls or 300 girls, other guys couldn't care less. Women care. And women don't find that particularly attractive either. Plus, if you really think about it, girls that are jumpoffs get wifed up too. So who's really judging them?? Think about it. Women.
Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.
I digress. I guess I'm starting the All Men Aren't Scumbags Campaign. What we sometimes can be is simply scared. Yeah, I said it. Men can also be afraid to be hurt, afraid to be played, afraid to mess shit up, afraid that things are going to change because sometimes once you enter Wifeyhood, things do change. Sometimes they don't. So if your dude asks you to be patient with him and he's there for you all the time anyway, don't jump to decide that he's clearly ramming ever chick in a 20-block radius, try to understand what is inhibitions are. Find out why he is the way he is and feels the way he feels. The same as you would expect from him.
Randomness.....
There was an old guy in the train station with probably six teeth in his mouth and a boombox at his side and could sing 50 times better than most artists with a deal right now. .... I need someone to go to Rockefeller Center and sign this dude. He was beasting Sam Cooke songs. ... If the Giants lose one more game I'm going to go out to Jersey and start throwing rocks at passing limos and Escalades. .... Why the hell have I felt tired every single day for nearly the passed two weeks? ... The best way to say I'm sorry is with good head. ... The best way to say hello is with good head. ... Best way to say goodbye is with good head. .... Ahh head is great. ... For some reason I've been looking at people in the street lately and thinking about how'd I'd dress them. .... I been disappointed in myself a lot lately. ... I've been proud of the Knicks even when they lose. ... Didn't think I'd ever say that. .... People in general are full of shit. ... You spit like a llama and you look like a llama. .... You know who you are. ... I went to the mall the other day and all I have to see if I see Santa I swear we gonna have to shot the fair one. .... I miss a good game of Hustle. ... Just cause you like sex that doesn't make you a freak. .... Just cause you "never got any complaints" doesn't mean you're good at it. ... Heroes is one of the best TV dramas in the history of TV. ... Shoutout to them having a black actor play the president. Now that's Obama fo yo mama. ... I need a new pair of jeans like nobody's business. ... T.I.'s album is crack. So is Kayne's. Luda's cd is aight. ... I haven't cut my facial hair in like two months and I still don't have a goatee. This is bullshit. ... I'd keep writing but my laptop is gonna die. ... In my mind, I'm listening to the Miseducation of Lauryn Hill.
Ya'll already know what it is.
C
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Wedding Picture...
So I checked out this book on writing. I'm thinking it's going to tell me how to be a great writer or something. Or it would be stories of how writers craft best sellers. What I didn't know is that by opening the book I had just given myself homework. After some moaning and groaning and an argument with my beau, Ms. P, I finally got to it. So basically the exercise was to look at a wedding picture, your own, your parents or a random couple and write a one-page fiction based on the image. So I guess this is my second attempt at fiction.
Honestly, I want people to read and give feedback. If you are a follower of this blog and you think you probably won't read the short story-type blog entries, let me know and I'll banish them from the blog and stick to spontaneous rants, comments on current events, how people suck and life in general and of course, Randomness. So check it out.
Wedding Picture
My mother smiled not because she had to but because the feeling overwhelmed her. It brought a wide smile that she didn’t even expect. It made it hard to even think about yesterday except for that tomorrow offered an opportunity for the beginning of an endless happiness that washed away every argument, every emotion that forced mistrust, every question of the possibility of failure. After this day, he would stand next to her just like this, with a smile as genuine as hers for as long as her imagination would allow her to see ahead.
Her ivory dress only revealed that she was slender but hides the long legs that first garnered his attention and the curves that drew everyone else’s. She was a golden shade of brown with thick jet black hair as soft as a cloud. It fell in giant curls and defied its true length. Her mouth was shaped in such a way that allowed for the kind of smile you’d see on a child with an orange slice in her mouth. A slight overbite was an imperfection that made her more approachable, more attainable.
Her body folded slightly inward. It showed a shyness that said she didn’t think she was as beautiful as everyone else did. Not even as much as he did when first saw her. And even today he’d look at her – years after she made him nervous – and be proud that she would stand by him. He was taller, about 6’3 and lean like a distance runner. His thick beard and mustache covered his tan skin and made him tougher than the pretty boy he looked like with a clean face. He should confidently, leaning toward her. His afro reflected the time. His aura said that he thought he was cool and that everyone else knew he was cool.
They held up drinks near the waist. They wouldn’t drink them but they wanted to celebrate. The drinks would no doubt come later. Her eyes drifted beyond the crowd out to a family member toasting them good wishes. The crowd watches them. They wait for them to crack. They wait to see if joy forms tears. They wait to see if tears form from shear fright. Her best friend stands behind her. Not paying attention to the moment. She can get the story later. She’s looking off to see what happens next. It’s her job to make sure the night goes without incident. She’s worried because she worries about everything. But everything so far tonight as gone off seamlessly. And this moment is perfect.
This moment they look perfect together. At that moment, that was all that mattered.
Honestly, I want people to read and give feedback. If you are a follower of this blog and you think you probably won't read the short story-type blog entries, let me know and I'll banish them from the blog and stick to spontaneous rants, comments on current events, how people suck and life in general and of course, Randomness. So check it out.
Wedding Picture
My mother smiled not because she had to but because the feeling overwhelmed her. It brought a wide smile that she didn’t even expect. It made it hard to even think about yesterday except for that tomorrow offered an opportunity for the beginning of an endless happiness that washed away every argument, every emotion that forced mistrust, every question of the possibility of failure. After this day, he would stand next to her just like this, with a smile as genuine as hers for as long as her imagination would allow her to see ahead.
Her ivory dress only revealed that she was slender but hides the long legs that first garnered his attention and the curves that drew everyone else’s. She was a golden shade of brown with thick jet black hair as soft as a cloud. It fell in giant curls and defied its true length. Her mouth was shaped in such a way that allowed for the kind of smile you’d see on a child with an orange slice in her mouth. A slight overbite was an imperfection that made her more approachable, more attainable.
Her body folded slightly inward. It showed a shyness that said she didn’t think she was as beautiful as everyone else did. Not even as much as he did when first saw her. And even today he’d look at her – years after she made him nervous – and be proud that she would stand by him. He was taller, about 6’3 and lean like a distance runner. His thick beard and mustache covered his tan skin and made him tougher than the pretty boy he looked like with a clean face. He should confidently, leaning toward her. His afro reflected the time. His aura said that he thought he was cool and that everyone else knew he was cool.
They held up drinks near the waist. They wouldn’t drink them but they wanted to celebrate. The drinks would no doubt come later. Her eyes drifted beyond the crowd out to a family member toasting them good wishes. The crowd watches them. They wait for them to crack. They wait to see if joy forms tears. They wait to see if tears form from shear fright. Her best friend stands behind her. Not paying attention to the moment. She can get the story later. She’s looking off to see what happens next. It’s her job to make sure the night goes without incident. She’s worried because she worries about everything. But everything so far tonight as gone off seamlessly. And this moment is perfect.
This moment they look perfect together. At that moment, that was all that mattered.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
And we're back.....
I feel like I want to apologize. But then I read my first post and I made it clear that this is my blog and I'll write when and how I want to. Eff it. I hope ya'll keep coming back anyway. There's profound subjects today. I'ma just stick to what we all love.
Randomness.....
I went to Portland this week, used a foot and a half to get in the air, saw the devil in a mini mart, saw a bus called the Groovemobile and saw a live folk music band all in one night. ... This is after a watched few hundred kids run around a muddied horse racetrack with hay bails included. .... Mama never said there'd be days like that. ... I have an attachment problem. I never want to get attached to people. And I fail to acknowledge any attachment they may have toward me. .... I can't help it. .... Pinoccino's story.... I just wanna be a real boy. ... .Yeah, me too. ... Some dude tried to sell Obama's Senate seat, called Obama a motherfucker, said fuck him and the GOP tried to criticize Obama for it. .... Let's just line up everyone on in the GOP for a collective backslap. .... If I'm constantly questioning myself does that mean that I just want to be better or does it make me insecure? ... Dear Summer, I miss you already. It feels like yesterday you kept me warm. Now the cold is attacking me and I feel like I don't know when you'll be around again. But I'll remember how you laid your warmth over me and found a breeze to smooth my skin. Somehow your calm kept me calm. .... Now back to the cold. ... It's raining and it makes me want to sleep. Actually being at work makes me want to sleep. And not sleeping makes me want to sleep. ..... Fuck the auto companies. ... Yeah, I said it. ..... You put out a shitty product and expect people to buy it then when they don't you want to get bailed out. Basically you're asking us to give you money so that you can make the product you were supposed to make in the first place and then ask us to spend more money to buy the product. ... I want to take your bailout and wipe my ass with it. ..... Then I think about all the people that would lose their jobs because you rich people suck at life and the bailout for auto companies make much more sense. So I'll call it the save Middle America bail out cause that's the only way it'll make me not want to blow up factories in Detroit and burn the bail out money. I wish there was a way to save people's jobs and let the auto companies lose. ... How bout we just build new auto companies? Wait, government-owned auto companies?? Loss. ... Fuck it, bail 'em out. Sucks either way. .... The more I try to decide where I'm going, the more I feel like I'm just spinning my wheels. .... So the gym and I are "on a break." She's definitely not feeling me right now. ... I think I'm going to have to write her a letter or something. ... Me and Procrastination are still technically broken up but I think our situation is "complicated." She just won't away. ... Lately, I've been waking up in the morning feeling like I never slept. That's the definition of restlessness. ... Suddenly, I have all these things to do and I feel like I'm not doing enough at all. ... Gotta fix that. ... .I hurt someone and I don't even know why. ... I realized that there's no point in trying to explain something that you have no right explaining. Sometimes you just have to say I'm wrong then close your eyes, clench your jaw and hope you don't get knocked out. ... Today this is my confessional. ... Forgive me for I have sinned. ... Heal me Blog.
C
Randomness.....
I went to Portland this week, used a foot and a half to get in the air, saw the devil in a mini mart, saw a bus called the Groovemobile and saw a live folk music band all in one night. ... This is after a watched few hundred kids run around a muddied horse racetrack with hay bails included. .... Mama never said there'd be days like that. ... I have an attachment problem. I never want to get attached to people. And I fail to acknowledge any attachment they may have toward me. .... I can't help it. .... Pinoccino's story.... I just wanna be a real boy. ... .Yeah, me too. ... Some dude tried to sell Obama's Senate seat, called Obama a motherfucker, said fuck him and the GOP tried to criticize Obama for it. .... Let's just line up everyone on in the GOP for a collective backslap. .... If I'm constantly questioning myself does that mean that I just want to be better or does it make me insecure? ... Dear Summer, I miss you already. It feels like yesterday you kept me warm. Now the cold is attacking me and I feel like I don't know when you'll be around again. But I'll remember how you laid your warmth over me and found a breeze to smooth my skin. Somehow your calm kept me calm. .... Now back to the cold. ... It's raining and it makes me want to sleep. Actually being at work makes me want to sleep. And not sleeping makes me want to sleep. ..... Fuck the auto companies. ... Yeah, I said it. ..... You put out a shitty product and expect people to buy it then when they don't you want to get bailed out. Basically you're asking us to give you money so that you can make the product you were supposed to make in the first place and then ask us to spend more money to buy the product. ... I want to take your bailout and wipe my ass with it. ..... Then I think about all the people that would lose their jobs because you rich people suck at life and the bailout for auto companies make much more sense. So I'll call it the save Middle America bail out cause that's the only way it'll make me not want to blow up factories in Detroit and burn the bail out money. I wish there was a way to save people's jobs and let the auto companies lose. ... How bout we just build new auto companies? Wait, government-owned auto companies?? Loss. ... Fuck it, bail 'em out. Sucks either way. .... The more I try to decide where I'm going, the more I feel like I'm just spinning my wheels. .... So the gym and I are "on a break." She's definitely not feeling me right now. ... I think I'm going to have to write her a letter or something. ... Me and Procrastination are still technically broken up but I think our situation is "complicated." She just won't away. ... Lately, I've been waking up in the morning feeling like I never slept. That's the definition of restlessness. ... Suddenly, I have all these things to do and I feel like I'm not doing enough at all. ... Gotta fix that. ... .I hurt someone and I don't even know why. ... I realized that there's no point in trying to explain something that you have no right explaining. Sometimes you just have to say I'm wrong then close your eyes, clench your jaw and hope you don't get knocked out. ... Today this is my confessional. ... Forgive me for I have sinned. ... Heal me Blog.
C
Monday, December 1, 2008
First time.....
OK, so this past summer I promised myself to try some fiction writing. This is my first attempt. I wrote this months ago and of course, it's the only thing I've written so far. Damn you Ms. Procrastination, your effects still linger. So here it is, unedited. Some followers of this blog my have read this already, if you did, read it again. If you didn't, hope you enjoy. Either way, comments and feedback are always welcome. Rock out.
C
FIRST TIME
You never know what your first time is going to be like. You know what you “want” it to be like. What you want it to feel like, smell like, look like. You can plan out every detail about how you’re going to be a stud and leave this poor, unexpecting girl quivering in your newly de-virginized wake.
But when you’re 16 years old and you want to touch everything that wears perfume, you can plan all you want, the truth is you couldn’t care less how it happens. You just want it to happen.
I didn’t care. I wanted to pipe everything. Every girl that thought I was cute. But if I was honest with myself I was scared to death. There are so many what if’s. What if I finish in 13 seconds? What if I finish before we even start? What if I’m just bad or fumble with the condom for 3 minutes straight and end up firing it at this poor girl like a slingshot.
All my friends were older. They already did it. So did my brother, Eric, and he was only a year older than me. But he was sleeping with girls since he was 14. And I’m barreling down on an old-ass 17 and I don’t have any when-I-was-with-this-one-chick stories. But Eric and I were together all the time and that was cool with me because Eric was soaked in swagger. He had a quick mouth and didn’t really seem intimidated by anyone. He was tall and light-skinned, slim and muscular and had light brown eyes which in and of itself made him a pimp. Plus, he was on the track team and one of the best hurdlers in the state. He had his weird thing – well, it was weird to me – he always leaned to the right, looking over his shoulder like he was waiting for his shadow to catch up him walking.
Eric dated this petite, cute, Guyanese girl named Nicole. She was the first girl my brother was infatuated with. Nicole was the Indian-looking West Indian, with red-dyed hair and a pierced nose. But she always had a fresh outfit and crisp pair of Nike’s. Her best friend was Lisa. They were like a package deal. You don’t get Nicole without Lisa. So when Nicole told me that Lisa liked me, I should’ve known. Lisa was what I called sometime-ish. Some days she was a bad chick. Some days she looked like she got dressed with her eyes closed and left her face on the pillow in the morning. I didn’t understand it. Still don’t.
I had just grown into myself anyway. I was about four inches shorter than my brother. I was one of those kids that had all the girls in elementary school, when light-skinned kids when curly hair couldn’t lose. But by my freshman year I couldn’t get a girl to look at me if I painted my teeth purple and shaved a profanity into my hair. Luckily that phase only last a year and by my sophomore year I found comfort in my brother’s shadow. I got skipped in the third grade, so Eric and I were in the same grade in school.
Now it’s junior year and God blessed us with the ability to squeeze into the cool kids group in school. Actually, at Edison High in late 90s, being on the track team allowed almost instance cool status or at least you thought it did. It seemed like every girl in school ran on the track team at one point or another, until they realized that practice might get hard or they might have to sweat out their perm and that was the end of that. Nicole and Lisa both ran on the track team but were now content to be just track team affiliates. Lisa and Nicole had reputation too, which I tried to warn Eric about when he started with Nicole. Word passed that they were easy, that tons of guys at school and already explored their barely-out-of-adolescent sexuality with one or the other of them – Nicole or Lisa. But Eric was sprung so what else could I do. I accepted it. And I accepted Lisa, who turned out to be not terrible to hang out with. Plus those days when she chose to find some lip gloss, high heels and the hair dresser, I didn’t mind her company at all.
It was about a mile walk to the bus station from school. Eric, Nicole and I were headed home after school. Nicole knew about my lack of booty experience. But still she dropped a bomb on me.
Rick, you might want to be prepared tonight, she said with a devilish look. Eric had this knowing look on his face too. Lisa might have something for you.
She told me that Lisa was planning on letting me in tonight. Letting me in. I was as terrified as I was excited because at this point, I for one didn’t care who I had sex with – just that I had sex. And soon. I went out and bought some condoms. Eric and I stayed at our father’s house on the weekends. He always went to bed like a 90-year old man. In the bed by seven. Lights out by nine. That worked great for us because that was as good as having the house to our 16-year old, horny selves. Honestly, I couldn’t tell what happen before or after the main event. But Nicole and Lisa behaved like they had no parents. We were all in the living room of my dad’s house at 1 a.m. with my dad dead to the world and all the lights off in the house and me thinking, ‘Holy shit, I think I’m going to have sex tonight.”
The living room was big enough that we could barely see each other on our respective couches, clear across the room. My brother’s voice came out the darkness like my sex conscience, alerting me to keep quiet on this squeaky ass couch so that my pops doesn’t come downstairs to be the fifth person in the room to witness this monumentous moment in my life We were all talking, about who-knows what when the words faded and the silence gave way to the flapping of teenage lips and muffled groans. Lisa and I were on the couch right underneath a window that looked out into the street so the street lamps filtered in a romantic illumination over us. Not that this was really a romantic moment instead of the first in what would be a barrage of relationships mounted on casual sex.
We kissed for a while. The way only high school kids know how -- and I was waiting. Normally, I would always try to find a way to have sex with a girl instantly, knowing that it wasn’t going to happen, which is probably what gave me the balls to try in the first place. But this time I let her be the aggressor, hoping she would usher me into sexual-royalty.
I don’t remember talking. She just saddled me. I kept thinking about what I should do with my hands. Where should I go first? It was like I had forgotten how to make-out, which I felt like I was an expert at by now anyway, since it was all I had really done. I rode my hands up her sides. She had on a wife-beater tank top and jeans. I slipped my hands from her waist to her breasts while she sunk her teeth into my neck. All I’m thinking about is the condom in my back pocket and when the appropriate time to pull it out is going to be. The more we kissed the more bold I become. I cup her ass. I squeeze. She moaned softly in my ear. My shaft throbbed. She started to lift my shirt. I took it off. Shit, accelerate the process. When she tugged at my sweatpants I ditched those too.
Now, I’d been here before -- half-naked with some girl that likes to get naked and not have sex. So although I took Nicole’s word I still reserved some doubt. That was until she let me take her pants off. Every part of me launched into high alert. I had to play it smooth. I slid off the couch and kneeled in between her legs. I kissed her stomach and her hips while I reached into the back pocket of my sweatpants laying in a heap on the floor. Then I balled it in my fist and slowly stood up. She laid flat on the couch, squirming. Every skin flick I’d ever seen, every image from every sex story I’d ever heard stampeded my brain.
Put your back into it. Go slow. Build up speed. You gotta work it like this. Don’t go in there short strokin’.
I mounted her and started grinding up against her. This is as far as I had ever gone with any chick so I was still in known terriority. I had even forgotten that my brother was on the side of the room until I heard her in a screaming whisper, Go on the fucking floor. You’re making too much noise. Stupid couch.
I pulled her panties off. I could smell her moistness. The call of the wild. Then I strapped the condom on. Seamlessly. I have no idea how I pulled that off.
Lisa guided me inside her. I looked at the time. 1:47 a.m. February 21.
Don’t forget the time, I told myself. I waited for the parade to march through. I waited for the fireworks and the Mayor of Sexual Activity to issue my pass into the land of grown men. I waited to be devoured by a feeling uncontainable.
But nothing. I was just having sex. Pumping in a unfamiliar but natural way and watching her face for signs that said, “This motherfucker has no idea what he’s doing.” I lasted a lot longer than I thought I would too. Then when it was over, Lisa said something I could have never expected. But it was the greatest thing she could have ever said to me and I’ve probably never heard a better thing since.
You sure you never did that before?
C
FIRST TIME
You never know what your first time is going to be like. You know what you “want” it to be like. What you want it to feel like, smell like, look like. You can plan out every detail about how you’re going to be a stud and leave this poor, unexpecting girl quivering in your newly de-virginized wake.
But when you’re 16 years old and you want to touch everything that wears perfume, you can plan all you want, the truth is you couldn’t care less how it happens. You just want it to happen.
I didn’t care. I wanted to pipe everything. Every girl that thought I was cute. But if I was honest with myself I was scared to death. There are so many what if’s. What if I finish in 13 seconds? What if I finish before we even start? What if I’m just bad or fumble with the condom for 3 minutes straight and end up firing it at this poor girl like a slingshot.
All my friends were older. They already did it. So did my brother, Eric, and he was only a year older than me. But he was sleeping with girls since he was 14. And I’m barreling down on an old-ass 17 and I don’t have any when-I-was-with-this-one-chick stories. But Eric and I were together all the time and that was cool with me because Eric was soaked in swagger. He had a quick mouth and didn’t really seem intimidated by anyone. He was tall and light-skinned, slim and muscular and had light brown eyes which in and of itself made him a pimp. Plus, he was on the track team and one of the best hurdlers in the state. He had his weird thing – well, it was weird to me – he always leaned to the right, looking over his shoulder like he was waiting for his shadow to catch up him walking.
Eric dated this petite, cute, Guyanese girl named Nicole. She was the first girl my brother was infatuated with. Nicole was the Indian-looking West Indian, with red-dyed hair and a pierced nose. But she always had a fresh outfit and crisp pair of Nike’s. Her best friend was Lisa. They were like a package deal. You don’t get Nicole without Lisa. So when Nicole told me that Lisa liked me, I should’ve known. Lisa was what I called sometime-ish. Some days she was a bad chick. Some days she looked like she got dressed with her eyes closed and left her face on the pillow in the morning. I didn’t understand it. Still don’t.
I had just grown into myself anyway. I was about four inches shorter than my brother. I was one of those kids that had all the girls in elementary school, when light-skinned kids when curly hair couldn’t lose. But by my freshman year I couldn’t get a girl to look at me if I painted my teeth purple and shaved a profanity into my hair. Luckily that phase only last a year and by my sophomore year I found comfort in my brother’s shadow. I got skipped in the third grade, so Eric and I were in the same grade in school.
Now it’s junior year and God blessed us with the ability to squeeze into the cool kids group in school. Actually, at Edison High in late 90s, being on the track team allowed almost instance cool status or at least you thought it did. It seemed like every girl in school ran on the track team at one point or another, until they realized that practice might get hard or they might have to sweat out their perm and that was the end of that. Nicole and Lisa both ran on the track team but were now content to be just track team affiliates. Lisa and Nicole had reputation too, which I tried to warn Eric about when he started with Nicole. Word passed that they were easy, that tons of guys at school and already explored their barely-out-of-adolescent sexuality with one or the other of them – Nicole or Lisa. But Eric was sprung so what else could I do. I accepted it. And I accepted Lisa, who turned out to be not terrible to hang out with. Plus those days when she chose to find some lip gloss, high heels and the hair dresser, I didn’t mind her company at all.
It was about a mile walk to the bus station from school. Eric, Nicole and I were headed home after school. Nicole knew about my lack of booty experience. But still she dropped a bomb on me.
Rick, you might want to be prepared tonight, she said with a devilish look. Eric had this knowing look on his face too. Lisa might have something for you.
She told me that Lisa was planning on letting me in tonight. Letting me in. I was as terrified as I was excited because at this point, I for one didn’t care who I had sex with – just that I had sex. And soon. I went out and bought some condoms. Eric and I stayed at our father’s house on the weekends. He always went to bed like a 90-year old man. In the bed by seven. Lights out by nine. That worked great for us because that was as good as having the house to our 16-year old, horny selves. Honestly, I couldn’t tell what happen before or after the main event. But Nicole and Lisa behaved like they had no parents. We were all in the living room of my dad’s house at 1 a.m. with my dad dead to the world and all the lights off in the house and me thinking, ‘Holy shit, I think I’m going to have sex tonight.”
The living room was big enough that we could barely see each other on our respective couches, clear across the room. My brother’s voice came out the darkness like my sex conscience, alerting me to keep quiet on this squeaky ass couch so that my pops doesn’t come downstairs to be the fifth person in the room to witness this monumentous moment in my life We were all talking, about who-knows what when the words faded and the silence gave way to the flapping of teenage lips and muffled groans. Lisa and I were on the couch right underneath a window that looked out into the street so the street lamps filtered in a romantic illumination over us. Not that this was really a romantic moment instead of the first in what would be a barrage of relationships mounted on casual sex.
We kissed for a while. The way only high school kids know how -- and I was waiting. Normally, I would always try to find a way to have sex with a girl instantly, knowing that it wasn’t going to happen, which is probably what gave me the balls to try in the first place. But this time I let her be the aggressor, hoping she would usher me into sexual-royalty.
I don’t remember talking. She just saddled me. I kept thinking about what I should do with my hands. Where should I go first? It was like I had forgotten how to make-out, which I felt like I was an expert at by now anyway, since it was all I had really done. I rode my hands up her sides. She had on a wife-beater tank top and jeans. I slipped my hands from her waist to her breasts while she sunk her teeth into my neck. All I’m thinking about is the condom in my back pocket and when the appropriate time to pull it out is going to be. The more we kissed the more bold I become. I cup her ass. I squeeze. She moaned softly in my ear. My shaft throbbed. She started to lift my shirt. I took it off. Shit, accelerate the process. When she tugged at my sweatpants I ditched those too.
Now, I’d been here before -- half-naked with some girl that likes to get naked and not have sex. So although I took Nicole’s word I still reserved some doubt. That was until she let me take her pants off. Every part of me launched into high alert. I had to play it smooth. I slid off the couch and kneeled in between her legs. I kissed her stomach and her hips while I reached into the back pocket of my sweatpants laying in a heap on the floor. Then I balled it in my fist and slowly stood up. She laid flat on the couch, squirming. Every skin flick I’d ever seen, every image from every sex story I’d ever heard stampeded my brain.
Put your back into it. Go slow. Build up speed. You gotta work it like this. Don’t go in there short strokin’.
I mounted her and started grinding up against her. This is as far as I had ever gone with any chick so I was still in known terriority. I had even forgotten that my brother was on the side of the room until I heard her in a screaming whisper, Go on the fucking floor. You’re making too much noise. Stupid couch.
I pulled her panties off. I could smell her moistness. The call of the wild. Then I strapped the condom on. Seamlessly. I have no idea how I pulled that off.
Lisa guided me inside her. I looked at the time. 1:47 a.m. February 21.
Don’t forget the time, I told myself. I waited for the parade to march through. I waited for the fireworks and the Mayor of Sexual Activity to issue my pass into the land of grown men. I waited to be devoured by a feeling uncontainable.
But nothing. I was just having sex. Pumping in a unfamiliar but natural way and watching her face for signs that said, “This motherfucker has no idea what he’s doing.” I lasted a lot longer than I thought I would too. Then when it was over, Lisa said something I could have never expected. But it was the greatest thing she could have ever said to me and I’ve probably never heard a better thing since.
You sure you never did that before?
Sunday, November 23, 2008
I'm gonna miss you....
If I have one vice it's Procrastination. If there was no one in the world that I couldn't say "no" to it's her.
Ms. Procrastination,
I want to break up with you. But it's so hard. Something about you makes me feel so good. So comfortable. You call me to my bed. To the television. The best thing about you iis that we can do absolutely nothing together and I'd still rather be with you than anyone else.
But we can't do this anymore.
You keep me out of the gym. You make me daydream at work. You make me have to rush in the morning. You make me an adrenaline junkie. You make me push deadlines. You make me make excuses. Whenever I want to spend some time with Productivity you won't let me. It's not fair.
Procrastination, I love you. We just can't spend so much time together anymore. Allow me some freedom to visit Challenge. He's pretty cool. Determination and Persistance can be draining sometimes but they always make me feel proud of myself at the end. I'll be honest. It's not over. I don't think I'll ever truly leave you. Sometimes you're so much fun. We just need a break.
Don't worry. I'll call you.
Promise.
C
Randomness .....
If you think about it, most of the time pride is a character flaw. ..... Knicks cleaned house. .... Damn Jamal, I miss you already. .... If Bron Bron doesn't come through I'm gonna be tight. ... I'm from New York. I guess I'm a pessimist. Giants 10-1 and Jets 8-3. ... I can dig that. ... She always makes me laugh. That's why we're so cool. ... I feel like me and the gym are just "going through a rough patch" right now. .... Funniest quote of the week: I want you take my fat pack and wrap it around your shoulders. Actually just tell your shoulders to shut up. ... White Hennessy isn't white and taste just like regular Hennessy. ... I love it when artists are giving their long ass acceptance speechs and the producer starts playing the award show's theme song so they'll shut the hell up and get off the stage. ... On a similar note, Kayne is so ill but I think if he was my friend I'd probably end up smacking him at least once. .... They got an al Qaeda tape calling Obama a "house negro." The American automakers have been trying to sell their country crap ass cars for years and they looking for the government to bail them out. The banks, theiving bastards, were robbing Americans for years by giving way loans like lollipops for people who had little chance of being able ot afford the loan just so the rich people at the banks could get more rich. They looking for the government to bail them out. ... They got people sleeping in subway stations and parks, people that haven't eaten in weeks, countries dying by genocide, disease and war. But we looking to bail out the rich fucks who are going to probably stay rich even if the economy implodes and the rest of us are starving. .... Please direct me to the person that I can punch in the face for this? ... I think I want another tattoo. ... Damn I remember when I felt like getting a tattoo was equivolant to branding yourself like a cow. ... Why is Alicia Keys so freaking bad? .... If I only "liked" it, why the hell would I put a ring on it? ... I'm serioulsy considering a career change. ... I think I'm excited by the thought. ... I get annoyed every time my phone vibrates. But if too much time passes and it doesn't vibrate I kind of feel a way about it. ... Whenever I sneeze, I swear I can shake my entire house. .... Some lady just did an opera interlude during Alicia Keys' performance at the American Music Awards. I laughed at first. But the lady went it. ... I co-sign. .... Whenever someone asks me why I haven't blogged yet it makes me happy. Thanks for reading. ... I never truly had a stuck-on-stupid moment until last week. I'll never forget it. ... World Peace. .... Thank you.
C
Ms. Procrastination,
I want to break up with you. But it's so hard. Something about you makes me feel so good. So comfortable. You call me to my bed. To the television. The best thing about you iis that we can do absolutely nothing together and I'd still rather be with you than anyone else.
But we can't do this anymore.
You keep me out of the gym. You make me daydream at work. You make me have to rush in the morning. You make me an adrenaline junkie. You make me push deadlines. You make me make excuses. Whenever I want to spend some time with Productivity you won't let me. It's not fair.
Procrastination, I love you. We just can't spend so much time together anymore. Allow me some freedom to visit Challenge. He's pretty cool. Determination and Persistance can be draining sometimes but they always make me feel proud of myself at the end. I'll be honest. It's not over. I don't think I'll ever truly leave you. Sometimes you're so much fun. We just need a break.
Don't worry. I'll call you.
Promise.
C
Randomness .....
If you think about it, most of the time pride is a character flaw. ..... Knicks cleaned house. .... Damn Jamal, I miss you already. .... If Bron Bron doesn't come through I'm gonna be tight. ... I'm from New York. I guess I'm a pessimist. Giants 10-1 and Jets 8-3. ... I can dig that. ... She always makes me laugh. That's why we're so cool. ... I feel like me and the gym are just "going through a rough patch" right now. .... Funniest quote of the week: I want you take my fat pack and wrap it around your shoulders. Actually just tell your shoulders to shut up. ... White Hennessy isn't white and taste just like regular Hennessy. ... I love it when artists are giving their long ass acceptance speechs and the producer starts playing the award show's theme song so they'll shut the hell up and get off the stage. ... On a similar note, Kayne is so ill but I think if he was my friend I'd probably end up smacking him at least once. .... They got an al Qaeda tape calling Obama a "house negro." The American automakers have been trying to sell their country crap ass cars for years and they looking for the government to bail them out. The banks, theiving bastards, were robbing Americans for years by giving way loans like lollipops for people who had little chance of being able ot afford the loan just so the rich people at the banks could get more rich. They looking for the government to bail them out. ... They got people sleeping in subway stations and parks, people that haven't eaten in weeks, countries dying by genocide, disease and war. But we looking to bail out the rich fucks who are going to probably stay rich even if the economy implodes and the rest of us are starving. .... Please direct me to the person that I can punch in the face for this? ... I think I want another tattoo. ... Damn I remember when I felt like getting a tattoo was equivolant to branding yourself like a cow. ... Why is Alicia Keys so freaking bad? .... If I only "liked" it, why the hell would I put a ring on it? ... I'm serioulsy considering a career change. ... I think I'm excited by the thought. ... I get annoyed every time my phone vibrates. But if too much time passes and it doesn't vibrate I kind of feel a way about it. ... Whenever I sneeze, I swear I can shake my entire house. .... Some lady just did an opera interlude during Alicia Keys' performance at the American Music Awards. I laughed at first. But the lady went it. ... I co-sign. .... Whenever someone asks me why I haven't blogged yet it makes me happy. Thanks for reading. ... I never truly had a stuck-on-stupid moment until last week. I'll never forget it. ... World Peace. .... Thank you.
C
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Sigh....
Why do people never say what they mean?? Why do people think that some how magically you will understand exactly what they want to convey to you as if there were some process of removing a thought from one person's head and planting it in another's without a single word exchanged.
How does that make sense?
Why do people need to read between the lines? How about just writing in the fucking margins?? Why does it need to be more work for everyone?
The only thing worse than being passive aggressive is following your passive aggressiveness with being dismissive. It's like slapping someone and running once you realized the person might slap you back. It's cowardly.
OK, now that that rant is over.. onto another.
I recently had a conversation with a friend of mine who is an African-American female. She just discovered (she didn't notice before) that she is being courted by a Caucasian male. She was having some internal struggle with this potential interracial relationship. Fine. But then she went on to say that many of her black girlfriends are dating or married to white men. She said that it infuriates her to see black men with white women but that it's understandable for black women to date white men. Her reason:
There simply aren't enough good black men.
Huh? What?
First of all, why do people always need an excuse to do what they do. Let me start by saying this. I thought that I was a person that didn't condone interracial dating/marriage. But at the end of the day, what someone does is their personal choice and their own decision has nothing at all to do with me. People are people. (although all sorts of racism and prejudice still exists, that is another conversation). You can present all the figures about the number of black males in prison or not in college and that's fine. Those numbers are staggering. But then that brings me to the question, how many is "enough" and what defines a "good" black man.
Women talk about good men as though they are some kind of endangered species. Why is it that I know so many good black men if they are so hard to find. And people say I'm anti-social. I know a ton of men that have graduated college, who are not in jail. I know men that haven't graduated college that legitimately make more money than I do. I know men that take care of their children and their wives and men that haven't run out on their children because the relationship with the mother didn't work out.
The idea she poised is that the reasons that black men date white women are more deep-rooted than black women dating white men, which could only mean that black men are of the mind that dating a white woman is something to aspire to. That dating a white woman is an achievement. I'll acknowledge that we all are curious about other races because our history as people shows that we tend to stick to our own, whether it be in social circles or relationships. But to make the notion that black men are somehow further inclined than black women to date outside of their race is a reckless statement.
The recklessness has little to do with interracial relationships. It's the idea that women have evolved so much more than men socially in the past 500 years that someone can believe that black men still look at white women or white people for that matter as superior while our women want to "try something new" simply because our women have decided that there aren't "enough" of us that are "good." Which can only make the implication to me that "something new" is then inherently better. Even if we excuse the implication, trying something new based on race as the criteria is a slippery slope and a path that our people would be served better to avoid.
A man is a man just as a woman is a woman. It's foolish to believe that a man will treat you better and worse based on his race. But if the physical features of a particular race excite you then, by all means, enjoy. Or if you happen to meet someone who intrigues and excites you in "that way"' then I'm no one to say that race matters. It will certainly play a role in your relationship but that decision is yours. Not mine or anyone else's.
But please... let's stop degrading our men. Lets stop teaching women that men are animals. That they will all wrong you, hurt you and leave you dry. PEOPLE are guilty of this. Not just men. Many men can speak to the same atrocities imposed on them by women (in terms of relationships) as women charge against men. We can talk about being cheated on, lied to, hurt, taken advantage of. Some can talk about being abused and robbed of their self-esteem.
But the double-standards, and the mass acceptance of them has to stop. Please.
Randomness will come soon for fear that this entry is too long and it will be placed above this blog. But in the meantime, my boy got a preview to this blog and he felt so strongly that he requested another guest spot.
The floor is his:
P.S. If men are the ones that are evil, why is Maury Povich getting paid heavy guap because of idiot women who have slept with their whole neighborhood and don't know who is the father of thier child/children. Things that make you go hmmmmmmm!!!!!!
How does that make sense?
Why do people need to read between the lines? How about just writing in the fucking margins?? Why does it need to be more work for everyone?
The only thing worse than being passive aggressive is following your passive aggressiveness with being dismissive. It's like slapping someone and running once you realized the person might slap you back. It's cowardly.
OK, now that that rant is over.. onto another.
I recently had a conversation with a friend of mine who is an African-American female. She just discovered (she didn't notice before) that she is being courted by a Caucasian male. She was having some internal struggle with this potential interracial relationship. Fine. But then she went on to say that many of her black girlfriends are dating or married to white men. She said that it infuriates her to see black men with white women but that it's understandable for black women to date white men. Her reason:
There simply aren't enough good black men.
Huh? What?
First of all, why do people always need an excuse to do what they do. Let me start by saying this. I thought that I was a person that didn't condone interracial dating/marriage. But at the end of the day, what someone does is their personal choice and their own decision has nothing at all to do with me. People are people. (although all sorts of racism and prejudice still exists, that is another conversation). You can present all the figures about the number of black males in prison or not in college and that's fine. Those numbers are staggering. But then that brings me to the question, how many is "enough" and what defines a "good" black man.
Women talk about good men as though they are some kind of endangered species. Why is it that I know so many good black men if they are so hard to find. And people say I'm anti-social. I know a ton of men that have graduated college, who are not in jail. I know men that haven't graduated college that legitimately make more money than I do. I know men that take care of their children and their wives and men that haven't run out on their children because the relationship with the mother didn't work out.
The idea she poised is that the reasons that black men date white women are more deep-rooted than black women dating white men, which could only mean that black men are of the mind that dating a white woman is something to aspire to. That dating a white woman is an achievement. I'll acknowledge that we all are curious about other races because our history as people shows that we tend to stick to our own, whether it be in social circles or relationships. But to make the notion that black men are somehow further inclined than black women to date outside of their race is a reckless statement.
The recklessness has little to do with interracial relationships. It's the idea that women have evolved so much more than men socially in the past 500 years that someone can believe that black men still look at white women or white people for that matter as superior while our women want to "try something new" simply because our women have decided that there aren't "enough" of us that are "good." Which can only make the implication to me that "something new" is then inherently better. Even if we excuse the implication, trying something new based on race as the criteria is a slippery slope and a path that our people would be served better to avoid.
A man is a man just as a woman is a woman. It's foolish to believe that a man will treat you better and worse based on his race. But if the physical features of a particular race excite you then, by all means, enjoy. Or if you happen to meet someone who intrigues and excites you in "that way"' then I'm no one to say that race matters. It will certainly play a role in your relationship but that decision is yours. Not mine or anyone else's.
But please... let's stop degrading our men. Lets stop teaching women that men are animals. That they will all wrong you, hurt you and leave you dry. PEOPLE are guilty of this. Not just men. Many men can speak to the same atrocities imposed on them by women (in terms of relationships) as women charge against men. We can talk about being cheated on, lied to, hurt, taken advantage of. Some can talk about being abused and robbed of their self-esteem.
But the double-standards, and the mass acceptance of them has to stop. Please.
Randomness will come soon for fear that this entry is too long and it will be placed above this blog. But in the meantime, my boy got a preview to this blog and he felt so strongly that he requested another guest spot.
The floor is his:
After reading C's blog, I decided that It was definitly time for my 2nd guest appearence. I know I've been away for a while but frankly Im not the writing type, and even if I was I am no friend to time. So ill start this one off on the usual note:
Are you fucking kidding me? This is the kinda bs that really pisses me off. Why have black men or men in general become the reason for the season? Its cold as hell at outside....... men, I lose my cell phone cuz i was drunk as balls in the party......... men, my period came early this month........... men, SMH. I mean although I have a very strong back there is but only so much I can bare.
So for all of you ladies who have sat down and decided that you agree with the notions of the lady in the above story, let me pick your brain. My biggest issue is the notion that there arent enough "good black men". Maybe if you stopped looking for dudes on the corner and club, and started looking for brothers in the library and in church you will find a good black man. I have heard many females say there arent any good black men out there, but yet if you check thier roster of boyfriends its heavy drug dealer action. Was he good when he was selling drugs just cause you was laced in gucci? Give me a break. You complain that there isnt enough good men, but it is a well known fact that most women want the "bad boy", and thats why nice guys finish last. Sounds pretty contradictory to me, think on it.
To the notion that it is more acceptable for a black women to date outside her race then for a black male to date outside his race i say, UIDIOT. Clearly your still dating the drug dealer because you must be on some shit to say something like that. Lets think about this logically so lets just say supposedly a black male is dating this white women for the purposes of something they aspired to, don't you think that white male that your dating has also aspired to fuck a black chick???? Again I say, UIDIOT. Probably never looked at it from that angle because your so busy thinking this white guy can't play you because hes not black a.k.a the reason for the season.
The solution is simple, No one on this earth is perfect. There are great men and women of all races just as there are losers. But the relationship choices we make in life are our own business as well as the consequences dont fall on some scapegoat. I am not to blame for you dating the abusive drug dealer, YOU are to blame. In short....... Live and let Live!!!!!!!
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Back like I never left....
So I've been struggling with blog topics hence the inactivity. I think my head has been too deep in all things politics and I didn't want to have to rename my blog to some witty thing like Politicin' Wit cha Boy or some nonsense like that.
Soooo straight to the randomness....
I realized that there's no one I can really tell everything to. ... The one person I can do that with, I don't get to talk to that much. ... If I get one more Obama text message, I'm gonna put an O-Bomb-a under someone's house. ... Knicks are 5-3. Fine by me for now. ... Applebees means so much more to me now than before. Spinach and artichoke dip never tasted so good. ... I'm a whale. ... No I'm not explaining that. ... Days at work have been going by a lot faster. Maybe that's because I'm actually doing work. ... Dear Good Sir, please don't put that tattoo on your neck. ... Please. ... I mean maybe you can put it on your face. Same thing no? ... I'm not sure how I feel about V-neck t-shirts. But I think I'll try it a few more times and see how this works out. ... Ladies if your head game is on point, I implore you to share your talents with your girlfriends. I promise it'll be one of the greatest contributions to humanity. Don't be stingy. Teach a class. Hold a tutorial. Make the world a better place. .... Dressing nice doesn't make me a metrosexual. That is the dumbest shit I've ever heard. First metrosexual is a contemporary word for "I think that dude is gay." And just because I can get dressed in 10 minutes and blow your outfit out of the box doesn't anything. What it does mean is that while your watching my freshness, the girl standing next to you is too. ... Don't be mad. Just go home, analyze your closet and plan accordingly. ... Damn, imagine if I really started shopping. ... Haircuts just make everything in life feel better. ... Mother Nature has no respect. ... Doesn't she know what rain does to work shoes? ... Donnie Brasco is one of the greatest movies ever. ... Forget about it. ... I still haven't seen the movie "W" and I'm mad about it. I don't wanna miss an opportunity to make fun of George W. Bush aka U Idiot. ... Speaking of which, I need an Obama t-shirt. ... I'm actually watching Happy Feet right now. ... Heroes just keep getting better. ... Why the fuck is Denny back on Greys Anatomy? Either way it's better than that lesbian storyline. That was just unnecessary. ... You don't really have to accept people for who they are. If you're an asshole, I'm not going to be your friend. Wait, I'm lying. Some of my best friends are assholes and I love it. But you get the point. ... I challenge you to go a week without saying Nigger. See how much cleaner your mouth feels.
Maverick.
Makes me laugh every time.
C
Soooo straight to the randomness....
I realized that there's no one I can really tell everything to. ... The one person I can do that with, I don't get to talk to that much. ... If I get one more Obama text message, I'm gonna put an O-Bomb-a under someone's house. ... Knicks are 5-3. Fine by me for now. ... Applebees means so much more to me now than before. Spinach and artichoke dip never tasted so good. ... I'm a whale. ... No I'm not explaining that. ... Days at work have been going by a lot faster. Maybe that's because I'm actually doing work. ... Dear Good Sir, please don't put that tattoo on your neck. ... Please. ... I mean maybe you can put it on your face. Same thing no? ... I'm not sure how I feel about V-neck t-shirts. But I think I'll try it a few more times and see how this works out. ... Ladies if your head game is on point, I implore you to share your talents with your girlfriends. I promise it'll be one of the greatest contributions to humanity. Don't be stingy. Teach a class. Hold a tutorial. Make the world a better place. .... Dressing nice doesn't make me a metrosexual. That is the dumbest shit I've ever heard. First metrosexual is a contemporary word for "I think that dude is gay." And just because I can get dressed in 10 minutes and blow your outfit out of the box doesn't anything. What it does mean is that while your watching my freshness, the girl standing next to you is too. ... Don't be mad. Just go home, analyze your closet and plan accordingly. ... Damn, imagine if I really started shopping. ... Haircuts just make everything in life feel better. ... Mother Nature has no respect. ... Doesn't she know what rain does to work shoes? ... Donnie Brasco is one of the greatest movies ever. ... Forget about it. ... I still haven't seen the movie "W" and I'm mad about it. I don't wanna miss an opportunity to make fun of George W. Bush aka U Idiot. ... Speaking of which, I need an Obama t-shirt. ... I'm actually watching Happy Feet right now. ... Heroes just keep getting better. ... Why the fuck is Denny back on Greys Anatomy? Either way it's better than that lesbian storyline. That was just unnecessary. ... You don't really have to accept people for who they are. If you're an asshole, I'm not going to be your friend. Wait, I'm lying. Some of my best friends are assholes and I love it. But you get the point. ... I challenge you to go a week without saying Nigger. See how much cleaner your mouth feels.
Maverick.
Makes me laugh every time.
C
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Like Sam Cooke said.....
I had dreams of being crushed under the power of water hose aimed at a protesting crowd. I experienced images of attack dogs gnawing at my fleeting feet, walking miles and miles to work because on that day, I'd rather crawl than regulate myself to the rear of the bus.
But my reality was last night, standing on the corner of Linden Blvd watching cars zip back and forth honking non-stop. And even standing alone, single cars would slow long enough to shout the name that captivated our hearts, enraptured our communities, motivated our youth and mobilized a generation.
Obama.
I shook hands with strangers in the hood. We hugged. People screamed and cried and sighed and dreamed the impossible dream then woke up and said, "Yes we can."
And we did.
I lived the history that I've only read about. The folk my age have a real story about overcoming legitimately connected to that of our grandparents and great grandparents. We changed the world Tuesday.
The whole world.
For the first time, I stood on a line for two hours and I didn't care. I would have waited two more hours. In the rain. Or freezing cold. My feet hurt. So did my back. But nothing felt better than pulling that lever so that I could tell my kids that I voted for Barack Obama -- that I was part of the movement. So were you. This is our Civil Rights Movement, our desegregation, our abolition.
This movement was not about race, not about Bush, not about the undressing of the Republican Party. It's about salvation of our country, saved by a man that looks like me.
So last night was my sit-in, my March on Washington. We rejoiced on the street and clogged phone lines and embraced each other in a way that we haven't since the Towers crumbled. I always wanted to live in a day that my kids would read about in their history books and then I can sit them down and tell them what "really" happened.
I never thought I'd see this. I wasted a thought. Best thought I ever lost.
No randomness today....
But my reality was last night, standing on the corner of Linden Blvd watching cars zip back and forth honking non-stop. And even standing alone, single cars would slow long enough to shout the name that captivated our hearts, enraptured our communities, motivated our youth and mobilized a generation.
Obama.
I shook hands with strangers in the hood. We hugged. People screamed and cried and sighed and dreamed the impossible dream then woke up and said, "Yes we can."
And we did.
I lived the history that I've only read about. The folk my age have a real story about overcoming legitimately connected to that of our grandparents and great grandparents. We changed the world Tuesday.
The whole world.
For the first time, I stood on a line for two hours and I didn't care. I would have waited two more hours. In the rain. Or freezing cold. My feet hurt. So did my back. But nothing felt better than pulling that lever so that I could tell my kids that I voted for Barack Obama -- that I was part of the movement. So were you. This is our Civil Rights Movement, our desegregation, our abolition.
This movement was not about race, not about Bush, not about the undressing of the Republican Party. It's about salvation of our country, saved by a man that looks like me.
So last night was my sit-in, my March on Washington. We rejoiced on the street and clogged phone lines and embraced each other in a way that we haven't since the Towers crumbled. I always wanted to live in a day that my kids would read about in their history books and then I can sit them down and tell them what "really" happened.
I never thought I'd see this. I wasted a thought. Best thought I ever lost.
No randomness today....
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
It Ain't Ova....
First let me apologize to those who actually follow this blog. I definitely have been slacking on my pimpin'. But let's remember that I do this for a living and sometimes my fingers get tired dammit. OK, actually I was just being lazy. Won't happen again. .... I think.
So from time to time, I may have a guest to the blog. This is one of my close friends talking about the kinda stuff we talk about everyday as we frequently comment on people's "U IDIOT" moments. I'll be back... in the meantime enjoy....
(Applause here...)
And back to our regularly scheduled programming....
It's crazy how many excuses people have for not voting. The two major ones are that our vote doesn't matter anyway (which to an extent I can understand but fuck that... vote or I'll smack you myself) and that Obama has already won so there's no sense in being late to work because you were waiting on some endless line. There was a record turnout in voter registration in New York. People sent in 204,000 voter forms in the first two weeks of October. That's a great sign. But it's only a sign. How great would it be to see 100% voter participation? Everything important that you're going to hear about this race is already out there, for better or worse. So now we're on to Sarah Palin's wardrobe and death plots on Obama. By the way, the fact that Michelle Obama made a point to alert the public that the outfit she wore on Jay Leno was from JCrew made me what to throw a tomato in her face. Why are you indulging in that nonsense? Plus, she's rich too, it wouldn't have made me feel any better or worse to hear that her dress was Armani or Christian Dior. I don't know what's worse, the fact that both campaigns apparently think the American public is really that shallow and fickle or that the American public may actually be that shallow and fickle.
Let's worry about questioning our democracy, about questioning the supposed democracy that we're looking to impose in the Middle East. Let's worry about the fact that a significant number of my friends can't find legitimate jobs or that our public schools suck donkey nuts and even those that are well-prepared to head to college can't afford it. Let me be clear when I say this: Fuck Joe the Plummer. At least he has a job and a decent healthcare plan.
I didn't want to rant about politics again but oh well. Onto the Randomness...
What is the world coming to when my choices for television viewing at Real Chance at Love and Paris Hilton's New BFF? ... I've seen few things in the world more wonderous than someone selflessly committed to something or someone. ... Listening to Prince's Call My Name. ... All I keep hearing is "What's my name Bitch?" from that Dave Chappelle skit. ... I love Katt Williams. ... I just wish he would stop saying nigga. ... I wish everyone would just stop saying nigga all together. ...I had to spend money I didn't have on a coat because dammit being broke is better than being cold. ... Camel toe is NOT SEXY. ... Damn I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit. ... They really should give out awards for procrastination. I think I'd be the king of the free world by now. ... Back in the gym. Applaud me. ... In all honesty, I think 95% of the things I write are trash yet there is something about actually being able to literally paint a picture with words that is cooler than most things any one can do. ... Fashion really is organized confusion. It's when style meets chaos and it still "just makes so much sense." ... The Knicks cut Patrick Ewing Jr. and kept Jermone James. ... If you see Donnie Walsh, kick him in the crouch for me. Thanks. ....Your friends aren't just the people you speak to everyday. They're the people that you trust telling your problems to not just the ones that ask you what's wrong. ... The act of bettering yourself is a constant push to be better than you were yesterday and the people you surround yourself should make you better for having known them. .... Grudges are stupid. Grow up. ... Shout out to Lips. A response to your note is coming....
Vote or Shut the hell up.
C
So from time to time, I may have a guest to the blog. This is one of my close friends talking about the kinda stuff we talk about everyday as we frequently comment on people's "U IDIOT" moments. I'll be back... in the meantime enjoy....
Complacency at its Finest
So uhhhhhh, why the hell are my gears being ground at 9:30 in the morning? All I wanted to do was come into work, check some emails, do some internet surfing, and then somewhere after lunch think about doing some work AFTER getting some much needed texting out of the way. But instead I open up emails with comments that read: “When Barak wins…”, “When Obama’s in the White House…”, “How do you feel that our next president is going to be black?” This is the shit that really gets to me. People act as if the dude is already in the White house sipping on some Ace of Spades. Unless yesterday was Nov 4th and I missed it, people need to wake up and realize that although he may be the better candidate he doesn’t have this election in the bag.
Just because everyone in our hoods is wearing Obama tees and Diddy is making Obama blogs, this doesn’t mean its time to call out of work on the 4th and 5th and plan your drunken fest at the 40/40. It’s this complacent attitude that has kept us getting the short end of the stick for many years. Let’s not forget that this Government has no problem shanking us and then hitting us with that convenient store lingo, “Thank you, come again
Our neighborhoods or circle of friends is but one small segment of a bigger picture. Some were out there, there are persons of all colors banding together against Barak (http://www.youtube.com/watch?
At the end of the day Nov 4th can be one of the greatest historical moments of our lives or one of the greatest public upsets. So you have a choice whether you gonna go hard for the man, or whether your going to be ironing your “See what had happened was ...” t-shirt to wear to work on Nov 5th. I mean the last time we ironed that bad boy was when we sat there and complacently let G. W. Bullshit into the big house. This resulted in 8yrs of losing, an oil war, and a bailout that didn’t even work smh. I mean do we really want to not vote and risk another 4 to 8yrs of the same. I know some of you may say you're to busy, but don’t worry if you stop kicking the rocks for 2hrs to head to polls no one is going to steal them.
And back to our regularly scheduled programming....
It's crazy how many excuses people have for not voting. The two major ones are that our vote doesn't matter anyway (which to an extent I can understand but fuck that... vote or I'll smack you myself) and that Obama has already won so there's no sense in being late to work because you were waiting on some endless line. There was a record turnout in voter registration in New York. People sent in 204,000 voter forms in the first two weeks of October. That's a great sign. But it's only a sign. How great would it be to see 100% voter participation? Everything important that you're going to hear about this race is already out there, for better or worse. So now we're on to Sarah Palin's wardrobe and death plots on Obama. By the way, the fact that Michelle Obama made a point to alert the public that the outfit she wore on Jay Leno was from JCrew made me what to throw a tomato in her face. Why are you indulging in that nonsense? Plus, she's rich too, it wouldn't have made me feel any better or worse to hear that her dress was Armani or Christian Dior. I don't know what's worse, the fact that both campaigns apparently think the American public is really that shallow and fickle or that the American public may actually be that shallow and fickle.
Let's worry about questioning our democracy, about questioning the supposed democracy that we're looking to impose in the Middle East. Let's worry about the fact that a significant number of my friends can't find legitimate jobs or that our public schools suck donkey nuts and even those that are well-prepared to head to college can't afford it. Let me be clear when I say this: Fuck Joe the Plummer. At least he has a job and a decent healthcare plan.
I didn't want to rant about politics again but oh well. Onto the Randomness...
What is the world coming to when my choices for television viewing at Real Chance at Love and Paris Hilton's New BFF? ... I've seen few things in the world more wonderous than someone selflessly committed to something or someone. ... Listening to Prince's Call My Name. ... All I keep hearing is "What's my name Bitch?" from that Dave Chappelle skit. ... I love Katt Williams. ... I just wish he would stop saying nigga. ... I wish everyone would just stop saying nigga all together. ...I had to spend money I didn't have on a coat because dammit being broke is better than being cold. ... Camel toe is NOT SEXY. ... Damn I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit. ... They really should give out awards for procrastination. I think I'd be the king of the free world by now. ... Back in the gym. Applaud me. ... In all honesty, I think 95% of the things I write are trash yet there is something about actually being able to literally paint a picture with words that is cooler than most things any one can do. ... Fashion really is organized confusion. It's when style meets chaos and it still "just makes so much sense." ... The Knicks cut Patrick Ewing Jr. and kept Jermone James. ... If you see Donnie Walsh, kick him in the crouch for me. Thanks. ....Your friends aren't just the people you speak to everyday. They're the people that you trust telling your problems to not just the ones that ask you what's wrong. ... The act of bettering yourself is a constant push to be better than you were yesterday and the people you surround yourself should make you better for having known them. .... Grudges are stupid. Grow up. ... Shout out to Lips. A response to your note is coming....
Vote or Shut the hell up.
C
Monday, October 20, 2008
Life....Life is what you make it.....
College days swiftly pass.
The phone vibrates. Text message. "Can I ask you a question?" it says. Somehow whenever someone asks permission to ask a question, that question makes me nervous.
"How did you know what you wanted to do with your life?"
Funny thing is, I thought to myself, how do I even answer that question? The short story is that you never really "know" until you're there and realize that you love it or hate it. Before that, you make the best decision you can, close your eyes and hold on for dear life praying that when you open them you'll find yourself in the place that you always thought you'd be. But in the meantime, you doubt yourself and question yourself and analyze and re-analyze and you claw through a maze of confusion.
But there is no way to sit down and decide in one day or a week or a month what you're going to be happy doing for the rest of your natural born life. And if you make a choice and you're wrong, who said that means you've effectively ruined your life beyond repair. It doesn't. Roads have exit ramps. If you find you're on the wrong path, get off and find the right road. But if you think you're going the right way, even if you're unsure, I say ride it out and enjoy the scenery.
Personally, I think finding what you want is a balance of finding what you like and what you're good at. In all likelihood, you'll like something because you're good at it. (Remember back in the day when you said that video game sucked only because you couldn't beat that shit.) But at the end of the day you want to come home feeling useful and accomplished -- feeling satisfied. Some people are in it for the grind. Some folk are in it for the love. Some just love the paycheck. Sometimes the grind is for the love of the check, if that makes sense. I say do whatever you need to in order to come home not wanting to sit on the kitchen floor watching your wrists bleed out.
I write because I think I'm good at it. I don't know if I just love being good at something or I love writing. Doesn't matter either way.
Plus, unless you've been touched by God in some wildly special way, you're going to wake up some mornings wishing that the building that you work at had a bomb threat and you get to stay home and do nothing. You just don't want to be pissed that you need to go to work. Then pissed that you are at work. Come home pissed that you had to go to work and then go to bed pissed because you have to go to work tomorrow.
Point is, sometimes you aren't sure you're on the right road. Just try to stay headed in the right direction.
And back by popular demand... Randomness......
A man stood on the corner of 168th street and Broadway screaming in a thick Spanish accent, "No Osama Bin Laden. McCain. McCain. McCain. Ten Dollars." Then pointed down to the cologne he was selling. ... It took everything in me not to kick him in the face and smash the cologne on his head. ... Maybe the smell would cover up the bullshit. ... Mavado's Inna Di Car Back. ... Crack. ... Great writers are thieves. ... I'm trying to be great. ... On that note, hideout1.blogspot.com. ... I just learned the Gully Creepa. I'm late but can't wait for the bashment. ... Colin Powell supports Barack Obama. ... As great as it is that a Republican political veteran supports Obama, no matter how he legitimizes his endorsement, people are simply going to see one black public figure supporting another black public figure. ... I don't conform to gender roles. ... Girls don't like that. ... Suck it up. ... Why do people only like gender roles when it benefits them? ... Emotions will have you broke. ... Emotions will have you broke and lonely with people laughing at how emotional you are. ... I've been a good friend lately. ... I appreciate people appreciating that. ... Sometimes freshness is born from necessity. Can't always pop tags. ... Why do people play games and then get mad when they lose? ... Like, you idiot. ... Your friends are the ones most likely to take advantage of you. ... The fact that you care is how you know they are your friends. ... Materialism is like Democracy's jealous homegirl that plays hype man and fucks up your relationship. ... I miss college. That shit is a fantasy world with pretend-money, endless women and no responsibilities. And all your friends live 10 minutes away. ... I ask myself every single day if I'm good at what I do. ... I'm more self-conscious than I let on. ... I have the same conversation with the same person through text messages every single night. A practice in futility. There are some relationships I wish I could repair. But you can't fix things that would rather be broke. ... I make a conscious effort to become a better person. ... Every day. ... Okay. Almost every day. ... No I haven't been back to the gym yet. Wednesday. I promise.
We became friends in the car. Now we're riders.
C
The phone vibrates. Text message. "Can I ask you a question?" it says. Somehow whenever someone asks permission to ask a question, that question makes me nervous.
"How did you know what you wanted to do with your life?"
Funny thing is, I thought to myself, how do I even answer that question? The short story is that you never really "know" until you're there and realize that you love it or hate it. Before that, you make the best decision you can, close your eyes and hold on for dear life praying that when you open them you'll find yourself in the place that you always thought you'd be. But in the meantime, you doubt yourself and question yourself and analyze and re-analyze and you claw through a maze of confusion.
But there is no way to sit down and decide in one day or a week or a month what you're going to be happy doing for the rest of your natural born life. And if you make a choice and you're wrong, who said that means you've effectively ruined your life beyond repair. It doesn't. Roads have exit ramps. If you find you're on the wrong path, get off and find the right road. But if you think you're going the right way, even if you're unsure, I say ride it out and enjoy the scenery.
Personally, I think finding what you want is a balance of finding what you like and what you're good at. In all likelihood, you'll like something because you're good at it. (Remember back in the day when you said that video game sucked only because you couldn't beat that shit.) But at the end of the day you want to come home feeling useful and accomplished -- feeling satisfied. Some people are in it for the grind. Some folk are in it for the love. Some just love the paycheck. Sometimes the grind is for the love of the check, if that makes sense. I say do whatever you need to in order to come home not wanting to sit on the kitchen floor watching your wrists bleed out.
I write because I think I'm good at it. I don't know if I just love being good at something or I love writing. Doesn't matter either way.
Plus, unless you've been touched by God in some wildly special way, you're going to wake up some mornings wishing that the building that you work at had a bomb threat and you get to stay home and do nothing. You just don't want to be pissed that you need to go to work. Then pissed that you are at work. Come home pissed that you had to go to work and then go to bed pissed because you have to go to work tomorrow.
Point is, sometimes you aren't sure you're on the right road. Just try to stay headed in the right direction.
And back by popular demand... Randomness......
A man stood on the corner of 168th street and Broadway screaming in a thick Spanish accent, "No Osama Bin Laden. McCain. McCain. McCain. Ten Dollars." Then pointed down to the cologne he was selling. ... It took everything in me not to kick him in the face and smash the cologne on his head. ... Maybe the smell would cover up the bullshit. ... Mavado's Inna Di Car Back. ... Crack. ... Great writers are thieves. ... I'm trying to be great. ... On that note, hideout1.blogspot.com. ... I just learned the Gully Creepa. I'm late but can't wait for the bashment. ... Colin Powell supports Barack Obama. ... As great as it is that a Republican political veteran supports Obama, no matter how he legitimizes his endorsement, people are simply going to see one black public figure supporting another black public figure. ... I don't conform to gender roles. ... Girls don't like that. ... Suck it up. ... Why do people only like gender roles when it benefits them? ... Emotions will have you broke. ... Emotions will have you broke and lonely with people laughing at how emotional you are. ... I've been a good friend lately. ... I appreciate people appreciating that. ... Sometimes freshness is born from necessity. Can't always pop tags. ... Why do people play games and then get mad when they lose? ... Like, you idiot. ... Your friends are the ones most likely to take advantage of you. ... The fact that you care is how you know they are your friends. ... Materialism is like Democracy's jealous homegirl that plays hype man and fucks up your relationship. ... I miss college. That shit is a fantasy world with pretend-money, endless women and no responsibilities. And all your friends live 10 minutes away. ... I ask myself every single day if I'm good at what I do. ... I'm more self-conscious than I let on. ... I have the same conversation with the same person through text messages every single night. A practice in futility. There are some relationships I wish I could repair. But you can't fix things that would rather be broke. ... I make a conscious effort to become a better person. ... Every day. ... Okay. Almost every day. ... No I haven't been back to the gym yet. Wednesday. I promise.
We became friends in the car. Now we're riders.
C
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Trying to form a habit
Today I'm going straight into the randomness....
I realized that I don't choose my friends. I let my friends choose me. ... I'm not sure if I like that yet but it works fine for now. ... I don't care what the fashion mags say, women please don't start with the glossy leggings. ... Listening to John Legend's Ordinary People. ... We really are. ... I woke up this morning feeling frustrated and I'm not sure why. I'm wondering if it really matters anyway. ... I hate to hear people say, "This is me," as if people are just supposed to accept your bullshit because you're too immature to rectify your flaws. ... I don't know why I like Erkyah Badu so much lately. ... I actually stayed up until 1 am last night to watch Making the Band. ... I'm still trying to decide if I'm disgusted with myself about that. ... You are your parents. ... Whether you like it or not. ... There are a ton of things that I don't know about my father. ... But I know that I walk like him. Sometimes I talk like him. I think that I hate to make appointments because he's adamant about keeping them. I realize I point with my index and pinky fingers. The same way he does. ... The more I learn about myself the more I learn about him. ... Funny how that works. ... I try to make everyone happy and I rarely succeed. ... I'm intent on keeping my pains to myself. I'm just as stingy with my joys. ... But I do share my smiles. ... How contradictory is that? ... Kerry Washington is one of the baddest women on television. ... So is the Latina woman on Heroes. I can't remember her name. ... Her name doesn't matter anyway. ... I hate that the professor from Heroes is now turning into The Fly. ... Aubrey O'Day is the white Lil' Kim without the fan base. ... Maybe she's Paris Hilton with more doctor visits and less money. ... I haven't been to the gym in almost a full week. Someone help me. .... I miss basketball. ... And running. ... Someone I've known nearly my entire life and I decided last night that we might never be friends again ... Without one foul word exchanged. ... One of my biggest flaws is that I don't allow people to help me. ... I'm getting better though. ... My coach used to tell me, "You only get wet once." ... That works in so many ways in life. ... In the meantime, while your getting drenched, be thankful for the people willing to hold the umbrella. ... For the first time ever, I think PacMan Jones didn't deserve to get suspended. ... Stephon Marbury should start mostly because Chris Duhon sucks. ... Angie Stone in Pandora. ... Sizzla in the car. ... Failure is an option. ... In that case I choose Option 2. ... Bob, tell me what I've won.
There is a comment box.... Tell me if I suck.
I realized that I don't choose my friends. I let my friends choose me. ... I'm not sure if I like that yet but it works fine for now. ... I don't care what the fashion mags say, women please don't start with the glossy leggings. ... Listening to John Legend's Ordinary People. ... We really are. ... I woke up this morning feeling frustrated and I'm not sure why. I'm wondering if it really matters anyway. ... I hate to hear people say, "This is me," as if people are just supposed to accept your bullshit because you're too immature to rectify your flaws. ... I don't know why I like Erkyah Badu so much lately. ... I actually stayed up until 1 am last night to watch Making the Band. ... I'm still trying to decide if I'm disgusted with myself about that. ... You are your parents. ... Whether you like it or not. ... There are a ton of things that I don't know about my father. ... But I know that I walk like him. Sometimes I talk like him. I think that I hate to make appointments because he's adamant about keeping them. I realize I point with my index and pinky fingers. The same way he does. ... The more I learn about myself the more I learn about him. ... Funny how that works. ... I try to make everyone happy and I rarely succeed. ... I'm intent on keeping my pains to myself. I'm just as stingy with my joys. ... But I do share my smiles. ... How contradictory is that? ... Kerry Washington is one of the baddest women on television. ... So is the Latina woman on Heroes. I can't remember her name. ... Her name doesn't matter anyway. ... I hate that the professor from Heroes is now turning into The Fly. ... Aubrey O'Day is the white Lil' Kim without the fan base. ... Maybe she's Paris Hilton with more doctor visits and less money. ... I haven't been to the gym in almost a full week. Someone help me. .... I miss basketball. ... And running. ... Someone I've known nearly my entire life and I decided last night that we might never be friends again ... Without one foul word exchanged. ... One of my biggest flaws is that I don't allow people to help me. ... I'm getting better though. ... My coach used to tell me, "You only get wet once." ... That works in so many ways in life. ... In the meantime, while your getting drenched, be thankful for the people willing to hold the umbrella. ... For the first time ever, I think PacMan Jones didn't deserve to get suspended. ... Stephon Marbury should start mostly because Chris Duhon sucks. ... Angie Stone in Pandora. ... Sizzla in the car. ... Failure is an option. ... In that case I choose Option 2. ... Bob, tell me what I've won.
There is a comment box.... Tell me if I suck.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Pre Mid-Life Crisis??
I keep thinking about the mental state of people my age, including myself. Those who care, spend a considerable amount of life in self-evaluation. I really can't think of anyone who is where they want to be or planned to be at this point in their lives. Again, including myself. So there are a bunch of 20-somethings having educated rants about their short-comings. We all talk about the money that we don't have or the apartment that we want or if you have one then you're not satisfied with it. It's not big enough, or nice enough. Or maybe you car isn't fresh enough. Or you don't have a car at all. How did we end up this way when our parents were married with at least one child by now.
But the fact is that we measure success differently now.
Welcome free-market economy. You have now been infected by materialism. This disease has varying side-effects. Some of you may become shop-o-holics. Others will be obsessed with their jobs knowing that an increase in pay also means an increase in social status. Success will be measured in zeroes and name brands, in style and luxury.
There is no cure for this affliction. Although the government has decided to starting buy stakes in banks. Here that knock at the door? Sounds like socialism to me.
The point is that, we feel behind because we haven't achieved total financial freedom in a system that makes it possible for only a few. And that is not to say that it cannot be acquired by the masses but we are conditioned to want more and more and so we will never be satisfied. And in this generation, family, love and emotional security has shit to do with success. And so we suffer with materialism as our blanket and our sickness at the same time.
Randomness....
White people really are SCARED TO DEATH. First this lady literally stands up and saying that she's actually read a lot about Barack Obama and from her educated point of view she has deemed Obama untrustworthy because (drumroll).... he is an Arab. Then McCain "defends" Obama by saying he is a "decent" man. .... When the fuck did simply being an Arab make you untrustworthy?? This is besides the fact that Obama is clearly not an Arab. ... In fact Khaled Hosseini, the author of Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns, wrote a letter blasting the McCain/Palin ticket for not only allowing these attacks but fostering them. ... In Rensselaer County, Obama's name was mispelled on 300 absentee ballots. Spelled with an "S".
Osama.
That makes sense? I'm not into conspiracy theories but you have to think at least for a second that this is directed at dumb ass people like the lady who called Obama an Arab. They'll see the name Osama and check any box except that one. And the ones that are outraged by the "mistake" will cross out the name and spell it right. Then their vote won't count because they altered the ballot. So at the very least the mistaken ballot re-enforces McCalin/Palin stupid idea that Obama is a terrorist who chills with terrorists yet we live in a country that went and bombed another country that ain't do shit to us.
Okay so that wasn't so random. Back to the randomness.... Gchat is the devil. ... But I love her and she loves me. ... There are maybe two people in the world that I can tell anything to and they'll never judge me. ... It's still annoying that when I lay on my right side I can't fully see the television. .... Jill Scott really is the Truth. ... It always surprises me when people say I'm funny. ... I wish people knew how important socks can be to an outfit. ... Men should wear belts. All the time. ... Black men should have facial hair. ... Obama and Michael Jordan are acceptions. ... How many days in a row am I going to miss the gym before I get disgusted with myself. .... As much as I miss the gym, I miss Coldstone even more. .... I'm the best friend that you could ever have that never calls your phone. ... If you understand this about me we get along great. ... Pandora, you fullfill me in everyway. ... Yes, I am McLovin. Oh... Maverick, Maverick, Maverick. Did the economy change yet?
C
But the fact is that we measure success differently now.
Welcome free-market economy. You have now been infected by materialism. This disease has varying side-effects. Some of you may become shop-o-holics. Others will be obsessed with their jobs knowing that an increase in pay also means an increase in social status. Success will be measured in zeroes and name brands, in style and luxury.
There is no cure for this affliction. Although the government has decided to starting buy stakes in banks. Here that knock at the door? Sounds like socialism to me.
The point is that, we feel behind because we haven't achieved total financial freedom in a system that makes it possible for only a few. And that is not to say that it cannot be acquired by the masses but we are conditioned to want more and more and so we will never be satisfied. And in this generation, family, love and emotional security has shit to do with success. And so we suffer with materialism as our blanket and our sickness at the same time.
Randomness....
White people really are SCARED TO DEATH. First this lady literally stands up and saying that she's actually read a lot about Barack Obama and from her educated point of view she has deemed Obama untrustworthy because (drumroll).... he is an Arab. Then McCain "defends" Obama by saying he is a "decent" man. .... When the fuck did simply being an Arab make you untrustworthy?? This is besides the fact that Obama is clearly not an Arab. ... In fact Khaled Hosseini, the author of Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns, wrote a letter blasting the McCain/Palin ticket for not only allowing these attacks but fostering them. ... In Rensselaer County, Obama's name was mispelled on 300 absentee ballots. Spelled with an "S".
Osama.
That makes sense? I'm not into conspiracy theories but you have to think at least for a second that this is directed at dumb ass people like the lady who called Obama an Arab. They'll see the name Osama and check any box except that one. And the ones that are outraged by the "mistake" will cross out the name and spell it right. Then their vote won't count because they altered the ballot. So at the very least the mistaken ballot re-enforces McCalin/Palin stupid idea that Obama is a terrorist who chills with terrorists yet we live in a country that went and bombed another country that ain't do shit to us.
Okay so that wasn't so random. Back to the randomness.... Gchat is the devil. ... But I love her and she loves me. ... There are maybe two people in the world that I can tell anything to and they'll never judge me. ... It's still annoying that when I lay on my right side I can't fully see the television. .... Jill Scott really is the Truth. ... It always surprises me when people say I'm funny. ... I wish people knew how important socks can be to an outfit. ... Men should wear belts. All the time. ... Black men should have facial hair. ... Obama and Michael Jordan are acceptions. ... How many days in a row am I going to miss the gym before I get disgusted with myself. .... As much as I miss the gym, I miss Coldstone even more. .... I'm the best friend that you could ever have that never calls your phone. ... If you understand this about me we get along great. ... Pandora, you fullfill me in everyway. ... Yes, I am McLovin. Oh... Maverick, Maverick, Maverick. Did the economy change yet?
C
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Allow myself to introduce......Myself
I been knocking around the idea of starting a blog since about, well, I don't know ... a long time. So here's to the end of procrastination. This blog will be about everything and nothing in particular. And with that said, that will probably be my last disclaimer because, fuck it, it's my blog so I can write what I want.
I'm watching the Jets game. Why am I not more excited that Brett Favre is playing in New York? I'm more into politics now than I've ever been which doesn't take much because before, I didn't care at all. I want to say that it's for more reasons than just that this is the closest that a black man has ever gotten to the White House. But the truth is, it's probably just that. There is a black man with a chance to run the country and I don't want to be left behind. But I don't have an "Obama for Yo Mama" t-shirt. No pins. No bumper stickers. I have though become more educated on foreign policy and the financial crisis. I watched more debates this election than I have in my entire life. I'm trying to not be biased.....trying hard. Cause I just want to slap John McCain. And I want to see Sarah Palin in person so that I can point and laugh.... hard!
I'm not just listening for who is more popular or endearing. I'm listening to policy and contradictions and the actual ANSWERS to the questions. Just not the deflections and rhetoric and honey-coated bullshit. This is the first time I've felt like an election has truly affected me directly. Like when I look at my 401K and/or get a mutual fund statement that says I'm losing the little piece of money I DO have and my only thought is: fuck this shit!
I don't know how they are going to fix this America that we live in. But that's why the President is supposed to be smarter than me. And smarter than you.
So I don't need an Obama T-shirt. My t-shirt slogan will say "Fuck this shit. Vote '08"
Randomness....
There are good women in the world. Good men too. ... The Knicks are still going to suck. I'm still going to watch every game and cheer like they are going to win 72 of them. .... I'd like to tell everyone who doubted me when I co-signed on Eli Manning that they can start forming a line for fellatio. ... I've been reading more now than I ever have before. On that note, Junot Diaz is the man, Malcolm X was assassinated about six blocks from where I work (yes, I get paid to write for a living too so if you're reading this, donations are welcome and I'll be setting up a PO Box.) ... I'm on to Cornel West now. .... Bill Maher is actually funny as shit but I've never heard anyone denounce religion the way he does. I won't co-sign on that but if it's funny, shit, I'ma laugh. ... I hate Blackberry. How can they make everyone more accessible and less sociable all at the same time? ... I saw a woman standing on the train last week, breast-feeding her baby. I still don't know how I feel about that. ... People should listen more and talk less. .... People who most firmly demand honesty, aren't the most honest people themselves. ... I admire anyone who knows something that I don't and is willing to share. ... My brother is determined to beat the ever-worsening recession. He says fuck sleep, there is money to be made.
My brother is my idol.
Hold the light.
C
I'm watching the Jets game. Why am I not more excited that Brett Favre is playing in New York? I'm more into politics now than I've ever been which doesn't take much because before, I didn't care at all. I want to say that it's for more reasons than just that this is the closest that a black man has ever gotten to the White House. But the truth is, it's probably just that. There is a black man with a chance to run the country and I don't want to be left behind. But I don't have an "Obama for Yo Mama" t-shirt. No pins. No bumper stickers. I have though become more educated on foreign policy and the financial crisis. I watched more debates this election than I have in my entire life. I'm trying to not be biased.....trying hard. Cause I just want to slap John McCain. And I want to see Sarah Palin in person so that I can point and laugh.... hard!
I'm not just listening for who is more popular or endearing. I'm listening to policy and contradictions and the actual ANSWERS to the questions. Just not the deflections and rhetoric and honey-coated bullshit. This is the first time I've felt like an election has truly affected me directly. Like when I look at my 401K and/or get a mutual fund statement that says I'm losing the little piece of money I DO have and my only thought is: fuck this shit!
I don't know how they are going to fix this America that we live in. But that's why the President is supposed to be smarter than me. And smarter than you.
So I don't need an Obama T-shirt. My t-shirt slogan will say "Fuck this shit. Vote '08"
Randomness....
There are good women in the world. Good men too. ... The Knicks are still going to suck. I'm still going to watch every game and cheer like they are going to win 72 of them. .... I'd like to tell everyone who doubted me when I co-signed on Eli Manning that they can start forming a line for fellatio. ... I've been reading more now than I ever have before. On that note, Junot Diaz is the man, Malcolm X was assassinated about six blocks from where I work (yes, I get paid to write for a living too so if you're reading this, donations are welcome and I'll be setting up a PO Box.) ... I'm on to Cornel West now. .... Bill Maher is actually funny as shit but I've never heard anyone denounce religion the way he does. I won't co-sign on that but if it's funny, shit, I'ma laugh. ... I hate Blackberry. How can they make everyone more accessible and less sociable all at the same time? ... I saw a woman standing on the train last week, breast-feeding her baby. I still don't know how I feel about that. ... People should listen more and talk less. .... People who most firmly demand honesty, aren't the most honest people themselves. ... I admire anyone who knows something that I don't and is willing to share. ... My brother is determined to beat the ever-worsening recession. He says fuck sleep, there is money to be made.
My brother is my idol.
Hold the light.
C
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)