Between Me & You

Confessional

2011-11-07T14:26:00.000-08:00

He walked all the way there. It was about two miles. He needed the time to fully decided that he wanted to do what had been convincing himself of for months. He needed an answer. Where ever it came from.

When he arrived at the towering doors his steps became shorter. His pace slowed. He examined the height of the regal, wooden door, wondering if the sculpted figures on the front were mocking him or telling a story that he didn't get. Once inside, he avoided eye-contact with anyone and everything. He eyed the red carpet in front of him. Candles lit the place and sun pushing through stained glass windows. He looked up only to find that no one was looking at him either. They seemed lost somewhere in the ceiling or buried their noses in their own clasped fingers.

He walked to a small room off to the right and kneeled in front of a decorated curtain.

It's been awhile, he started to explain. I think I may have lost my way.

Dear Blog, can you forgive me? Can I write again?

Randomness .....

I always thought my life would completely change when I turned 30. ... It really did too. .... It's not at all the way I imagined. ..... I really know a fair amount of very successful people. They make me proud and jealous at the same time. That's real. .... I can't remember a time in my adult life when there was this amount of quality music available. .... Kanye, Jay-Z, J. Cole, Drake, Wayne, Wale, Big Sean, Trey Songz, Rick Ross.... that's just off the top of my head. ... What happened to the days when all I knew was dancehall? .... Those were the days. ... When you had madd fun at a party and never even thought about taking a drink. .... I really need to start working out again. .... I've thought about running, Cross Fit, MMA, boxing. .... Clearly I'm bored. ... 50,000 word novel writing challenge. ... Damn that's a lot of words. .... I'm still stuck on randomness. .... Are you down? Are you down? Yeah, I'm all the way down. .... Drake sings and Trey raps. The world is upside down. .... Lately I've been wanting to dress more like a grown up. That means I'm getting old. And when my salt and pepper comes, I ain't dying it. .... Sigh... writing might be fun again. ....Head nodding....

Me

Thought of this in the car...

2010-08-02T08:23:00.000-07:00

Channel-surfing at 1 a.m. and there's nothing on. I just turned off the replay of Weeds. I know I should at least being trying to sleep but for some reason I don't turn off the television. I just lay there figuring that I'll fall asleep eventually as long as I'm tired enough. I keep the phone in the bed with me sometimes. I try to keep it out, like a newborn it keeps crawling back into bed with me when I try to banish it to the nightstand.
I kept waiting for Her to call. I knew she wouldn't. I knew that wouldn't call her either. Maybe a text message. Yeah, a text message is less intrusive. There's less of an obligation to respond. I texted her this morning. She didn't respond. I knew it would too much to text her again. I wondered if she was busy or forgot about the text or just chose not to answer. Too many damn variables in this new method of communication. Too much damn guessing. Is she mad at me? What's she doing? Is she trying to figure out what to say, drop her phone in a ditch, fall in a ditch herself, is she just ignoring me.
Screw it, I said. I checked her Facebook. No status change in 15 hours. Twitter? No updates. She dropped off the social media map.
So now I'm thinking about all the reasons she could be pissed at me. Not just why she didn't answer this text message but why she probably won't respond to the next one either. Now I have to track Facebook and Twitter updates to find out what's going on. Even that thought made me feel like a stalker. Oh, what if I check her blog? Does that make me a stalker? Or I could Google her. Google knows everything.

I closed the computer. This morphing into Magnum PI was not on my agenda for the night. Back to the television. Rocky is on. Maybe I should text her again. Wait, did it just vibrate? Oh it didn't. Well I've always loved this scene in Rocky.

(see i'm trying new things in my blog... hopefully it's good)

Randomness...

The worst thing about the summer is that baseball is the only sport in season. I'll be excited for an NFL preseason game at this point, which is kind of like going to the park to watch some 40-somethings play three-second hold. .... "My foot's sleeping on the gas. No break pads. No such thing as last." ..... I was 30-plus minutes into a run and felt a small explosion in my calf. Ok I'm exaggerating but I did feel a build up and a pop. That on top of my Achilles hurting on my other leg. Now I'm walking around like a 70-year old with surgically-repaired knees. Probably going to run today anyway. ... I remember when V-necks were an experiment. Now I can wear one every day in a week. .... It's amazing what a few push-ups can do for your confidence. .... She's having the best summer ever. I'm happy and mad about that. .... I think I'm making progress this summer. Slow motion for me. .... Amare' Stoudemaire should NOT having any commercials mentioning the NY Knicks and NBA championship in the same thought. There's nothing to be said for setting yourself up for failure. Stupid. .... Everything in moderation is such a great saying. It's true in every aspect of life. .... I never thought being a good person and caring about people's feelings could be a detriment in life. That don't even make sense but it's true. .... Weezy really has a verse that starts "Oh shit motherfucker God damn/kicking bitches out the condo like Pam." That shit sounds like he's throwing a temper tantrum. .... I just wanna roll a blunt with my list of regrets. Burn it all. Burn it all. I'm starting it fresh. .... I really realized I have to thank God for the real friends in my life. I don't use them like I should but I'm grateful that there are people willing to put up with me. .... I find myself being a lot more selfish that I've ever been. And I think that's healthy for me. ....Reimbursement checks are like finding $50 in a pair of pants you haven't worn for awhile. It gives me a yearning in my loins. .... Real quick.... Darnelle Rives is well within his rights to holdout of training camp. ... Owners in all sports don't give two shits about players unless they are making them tons of money. Those players the owners call "close personal friends." ..... I hope the Giants don't suck this year. The Mets suck giants Ape testicles. .... The Knicks are still going to suck and I'm still going to watch them. ... Sometimes I want to be on Twitter but right now all my tweets will be subliminal. ..... I chose to refrain.

C

When the Sun comes up....

2010-07-29T09:00:00.000-07:00

The best thing about the morning is when the sun creeps into your room. Through the window and onto the floor. It climbs the bed and touches you. It warms you and jars you just enough to stir you into consciousness. Another day. A new one.

There's a reason why the morning smells the way it does. It smells fresh, unspoiled by the stresses each day may bring. It hasn't been polluted yet, or trampled, or spit on or bombarded by noise. It's open to opportunity and bright and tranquil. I guess that's why you're supposed to thank God for new days. Everyday is like a do-over.

I forgot that for a while.

I like the crap from each day pile on to the next one, and then the next one. After awhile you get buried in all that crap and it's hard to come out because instead of looking at the next sun you keep studying all the crap surrounding you. Sometimes when it's like that no one can pull you out. Even if they extend a hand, you either reject it or pull them in with you. But there's a point that I realized that you have to pull yourself out. Had to figure out a way to look and appreciate when the next sun came up then I had to figure out when the hell I was going to do with this fresh new, shiny, tranquil day. I'm still figuring it out.

I stopped blogging because I thought I had nothing to write about. I couldn't stand watching myself write about the same things over and over. About frustration and struggle because it all looked like I was sinking, instead of pulling myself out of the crap. I decided to stop for a minute and really think about what makes me happy. And when I couldn't figure that out for the life of me, it made decide that, well, that's what I'm going to do with the opportunity that each sunrise presents. I'm going to find out what really makes me happy and what we'll keep me happy.

Running. Exercising. That makes me happy. I like to be challenged. I like to see how far I can push, I deep I can dig. I want to find out where I'll break, or if I'll break at all. I like that the reward is tangible. Bigger, stronger, faster and all that.

It's also important that I do things for myself and that I make some decisions based soley on my own personal best interests. I would literally make decisions based on which route would piss off, disappoint, or bother the least amount of people. I barely ever said no to anyone but myself. I have to laugh at how stupid that even sounds in my head. I realized that sometimes the best thing for me to do is to sit my ass quietly in one place and do nothing. Or read. Or write. Or just think about what I need to do that's going to continue to make me happy. It's working on not being stuck in the crap that makes you walk around like you're a rapper, saying you got the whole city on your shoulders, the whole state on your back, or the whole world rotating on your head or some other nonsense.

So recently I've started to take account of the sunrise. Since everyday is a shot at a do-over, a chance to do it better. To be better. So I've made friends with Gym again but I've been cheating with Running. Gym understands. She's happy if I visit. Procrastination is a torn in my freakin' side but that's partly because she has a partner that takes me upstairs and then I don't feel like doing anything.

If you've followed this blog in the past you'll get the personification. You will also remember this:

Randomness.....

Is it gay that I get an erection from the thought of Chris Paul playing for the Knicks? I'm sure it is. I don't care though. .... Damn the people in charge of the New York State budget are a bunch of cocks. I wish we could just round up like 12 really hood dudes and go up to Albany and just beat the shit out of everyone. That'll teach 'em. .... I didn't do anything work-related today outside of a few emails and two meetings that I barely paid attention in. At least I was productive yesterday. ..... I feel so many changes coming. .... I thought yesterday that I'm literally "training" to be 30. I'm running. I'm eating better. I'm cut my hair differently. It'll all been a win. .... This is the first time I've blogged in like 2-3 months and it was probably 2-3 months before that. .... I've tweeted about 10 times in the past 3 days. ... That's more than I've tweeted in the past 2 months. .... I've decided that I'm not longer taking blame for shit that ain't my fault. Enough of all this nice guy shit. .... Dough to get, more shows to rip. I suggest you all roll wit the clique. Who ya wit? .... Why do the Mets suck so bad? If I was more into baseball I'd be supremely pissed off right now. .... Giants and Jets in the SuperBowl? No? ..... Did my first "real" track workout in about 6 years the other day. I layed on the floor in my bedroom for hours afterward. Layed on the floor the next day after I ran and went to the gym. .... I know my abs are under there somewhere. .... I was told I was an "inspirational writer" and that I was "movie star hot" in the same week. I should be gassed but I don't believe any of it. ... Don't worry my swag is in tact though. .... Wait is the word "swag" played out? ...... Ah well. Just happy to be back. Good morning.

- C

Trying something new....

2010-05-04T12:07:00.000-07:00

Dear Me,
Sometimes I sit and stare into space and allow my thoughts to take me over. Sometimes it’s too much and I feel like I’m bubbling over. Other times I feel like I’m imagining that my pot is so full than the next drop is going to force things to spill to the floor. I’m trying to realize that when you hold on to things that the next thing just gets added on.
Then everything feels like too much.
The next thing is always going to set me off. The next straw will always feel like the last straw. How do you let go of the past when the past feels so much like the present? I couldn’t find the words before to describe how I was feeling. I always used these active verbs or flowery words. I feel like I’m “overflowing.”
I don’t care that it’s pouring. I know sometimes that when it rains it pours. But it doesn’t have to rain all the time. Not all the time. I don’t care about getting wet. It happens to everyone. I just need some sun. A rainbow. A lull in the action.
My friend said I was irritable. On edge, he said, like everything is going to aggravate me. Damn, I never thought about that way. Maybe that was too simple. Maybe it’s just me. Actually I know it’s me. Now. But it’s because I’m tired of standing in the rain and throwing a tantrum isn’t going to help me get dry. Waiting for the sun to come isn’t going to stop the rain. I’m standing in the rain angry and sulking and anything that happens is the next thing that makes me want to scream.
I can’t be like this.
I spoke at a career fair the other day for mostly teenagers, all in GED or alternative school programs. Kids that have had trouble with the law or discipline. They were all respectful, all quiet. Even the ones that didn’t care what I had to say at least pretended to pay attention. Including the three kids someone sat in front of me that barely spoke English. That time I was the one that ended the conversation. “So, thanks for stopping by guys.” I held out my hand for a farewell handshake in case any of them misunderstood.
I told almost every kid that sat down that finding a career was finding a way to marry the things that you like, with the things that you’re good at. There has to be a balance. The balance presents the challenge. For the most part, I felt like a spokesman for Read Across America. I kept telling them they need to read. That I read on the train. That I liked to read when I was younger but I didn’t actually read much because that required me to sit in one place for a long time. I told them that I always wanted to be smart, and to sound smart. For that you need access to lots of words. Where are words? Books. That’s right kids.
Reading. It’s like a vacation for your brain.

I promise I’ll try to write more,

Me

Release...

2010-01-06T09:48:00.000-08:00

I'm writing this because I want to write something else and can't find the words. So here I don't have to search for words. I just let them come to me. .... I guess that's lazy. I'm just trying to get the ball rolling. .... Anthony Hamilton just beasted this song in my ear. ... Her Heart. ...I keep thinking of something my mother said to me. ... "And who do the strong turn to?" ... What if I'm not as strong as I thought I was? Who do I turn to then if I've always thought I was the strong one? .... I can't remember the last time I was so happy to just stay in the house with my family as I was for the past two weeks. ... In my house everyone is reserved to their own corner, doing whatever it is they do and when we gathered in the living room suddenly I felt like we were having a house party but all the guest lived in the house. ... No matter how much I read, or what I read, I still can't find the inspiration to write something brilliant. I think I realized that I don't know who I am as a writer. I've found my voice as a reporter, although I feel like I've lost that at times. But the "writer" I'm supposed to be is a stranger to me. ... I'm not sure I've ever met him before. ... I'm finding that when I read I simply want to be like the author I'm currently reading. I wish I could see through his mind's eye and shape words and space the way he's crafted it. .... The best piece of writing advice I've ever gotten was simply to "Write what you see." ... I don't want to write a story that I wouldn't read. And I certainly don't want to write another hood classic about an athlete that never made it in sports but somehow found another way despite his inner demons and addiction to women's affection. .... The greatest minds are always the most flawed. That's way the geniuses we know also seem so crazy. ... Maybe I'm too normal for my own good. ... Lately my Randomness hasn't seem so random. ... Maybe it's forced. ... I need to write thought. I need to purge. I can't keep suffocating on my own thoughts. ... No, I'm more in control than that. .... I'm the one suffocating my thoughts. .... 2010 is time for action. More action than planning. More doing than thinking. ..... I've been sleeping better lately. Not sure why. .... I can hear the ticking instead of me. I'm just waiting for the BOOM.

-C

Relaxation....

2009-12-22T07:53:00.000-08:00

Randomness...

Through my headphones Erykah Badu is massaging my shoulders with her strong, rapsy melody. ... Maxwell guides my thoughts into tranquility. ... Sade provides the haze of smoky incense. .... I gotta get up, Jill Scott says. "Sometimes I feel like I'm working for nothing, trying to get something. Everywhere I turn I'm faced with another bill." .... But I gotta get up, she said. .... That's what I say. I gotta get up. Complacency is an endless path to nowhere. Spinning wheels. ..... Who do the strong turn to? Damn that's a good question. .... Sometimes sharing really is caring. .... I look in the mirror and I don't always see me. ... I see the me that I used to be sometimes. Other times I see the person I think I am. But whoever that person is, he's beginning to feel like a stranger. ... Being trapped inside yourself is pretty weird. .... Who has the key to that dungeon? .... Oh right. That would be me. ... Common just came through on Pandora. Good timing. .... Seven presidents tried to reform health care. More presidents than I've been alive for. Now Obama wants to wrap "Change" in a box with a red bow and have this bill signed before Friday. Merry Christmas America. ... Funny that no matter how much I read about it and listen to people talk about it, I still don't really understand how it's going to change my life personally. Maybe less cash getting jacked from my check. Shit, Merry Christmas to me. ... Cincinnati Bengals wideout Chris Henry died during a domestic dispute with his fiancee after falling off the back of the pick up truck she was driving. Don't know if she killed him on purpose but I do know that he jumped onto the rear of the car shirtless with his arm in a sling. ... They both clearly did something stupid. But it's amazing to me that people make jokes when men are injured and even killed in domestic arguments. Steve McNair. Arturo Gatti. Chris Henry. Tiger Woods is the only one not dead although he's being killed by the media outlets across the country. ... Then some broad named "Snookie" on MTV's Jersey Shore get clocked in the face and then there's all kinda of domestic violence conversations and information on hotlines being aired. .... It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt. Unless it's a man. Then it's still fun and games. ... Knicks are 6-2 in their last eight games and I got to take my nephew to his first Knick game about 10 rows back from the visitor's basket at the Garden. I think I would have pissed myself in excitement if I did that when I was 12. .... He may not have truly appreciated the experience. But he will one day. And I'm grateful for that. ... I'm really fighting the urge to hate Christmas this year. I almost went ape shit in Green Acres last night. And it wasn't even packed. I was just tried of roaming around looking for stuff to buy with money that I didn't have. So I left before I planted a bomb by the Haagen Dazs stand. ... Last night I talked to God. He didn't answer. But I hope He heard me.

C

Thoughts in Flight

2009-12-10T06:56:00.001-08:00

I got on the plane like I normally would. Just boarded behind everyone, falling into line then looking for my assigned seat. When I’m going on a long trip I tend to fall into a zone. Faces become mostly indistinguishable. Something like leaves passing each other in wind.
I took my seat. I almost always fly next to the window. I clipped my seat belt and immediately pulled out a book. I don’t sleep on planes. Or in cars. Or any other mode of transportation for that matter. A dark-skinned girl with tight corn-rowed braids sat in the aisle. She looked oddly familiar. Odd because I felt like I had known her briefly at some point in life. Maybe we had a conversation once.
An older white woman sat in the middle and seconds after I had sat down she asked someone in the row ahead of us if she wanted to switch seats so that she could seat with her friend, who turned out to be my familiar stranger. She also looked familiar. But not like we knew each other but familiar in the kind of way that people in New York City look familiar. Like she surely resided in one of the five boroughs and because on first glance, in my estimation, she was either Dominican or Puerto Rican, she was either from the Bronx or somewhere in uptown Manhattan.
In truth, it didn’t matter to me. I’m mostly anti-social. Especially when I’m traveling. So cracked open my book, “Blink” by Malcolm Gladwell. Something about the completely white cover had always drawn my attention but even the foreword grabbed me. I hadn’t finished one page before my familiar stranger leaned over her friend and made a joke I barely remember. Something about what I was going to do to keep my seat since that friendly white lady had given up hers. I smiled and chuckled to be nice, even though I had barely heard her.
I kept reading but I couldn’t shake this feeling. I just knew that these girls were going to talk to me at some point during this flight. And since it was nearly six hours from JFK airport to Phoenix (I was on my way to Portland), I was hoping that they would strike conversation later rather than sooner. I only have so much stamina for small talk. I could tell they were good friends. The kind that laugh at nothing together because their presence makes each other happy. I buried myself in my book. My familiar stranger promptly sunk in her chair and dropped asleep and her rotund Latina friend in the middle plugged her ears with her Ipod. A couple silent hours passed.
“Whatcha reading?”
I knew it was coming. The rotund Latina with the Ipod eyeballed my book in a way that said she wasn’t really interested in my choice of literature but that she felt like talking and her friend was sleeping and that I never do a good enough job of seeming unapproachable.
“This book called “Blink.”
“What’s it about?”
“I just started but so far it’s about how we make snap decisions. It sort of about how we process things unconsciously before you can even think about them. Or something like that. So far he’s just talking about how some people brought this thing called a kouros, which is statue of a boy standing with his left foot forward and his arms to his sides, to a new museum and they had all these experts and historians look at it to make sure it was legit. They ran all these tests and decide was real. Then some other people came in and peeped that it was fake on first glance. And it turned out that the status was fake – some hybrid of a bunch of variations of the same type of statue. I’m not sure where it’s going but it’s interesting so far.”
It was a long-winded answer, which made me laugh at myself but it only made it seem like maybe I really did feel like talking. I told her it’s not the kind of book that I’d typically read.
“What kind of books do you read?”
I walked into that one.
“Eh, I’ll read anything I can get my hands on mostly. I don’t really know. I secretly want to be a nerd so I’ll read just about anything. Like the last book I read was The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown, the guy that wrote Da Vinci Code and Angels and Demons.”
I knew it was the end of the reading time. She wanted to talk and it was a long flight and it was be polite and hopefully interesting to indulge her. Turned out she was from the Bronx and works across the street from my in Washington Heights. So I was right on both accounts of her Latina-ness. She went to school in Plattsburgh, where I was two weeks earlier, but dropped out because there’s nothing to do in Plattsburgh except find trouble. So she came home.
She was into photography and took a few pictures across my lap and out the side window of the mountains and that were somewhere on our way to Arizona. She was on her way to Vegas for her birthday. Just decided to up and go with her friend two weeks ago. Found a cheap flight. She was the type that would probably do almost anything for the thrill, including hurling her probably-275-pound self out of a plane at 16,000 feet because her white friends in Plattsburgh thought it would be cool to burn some weed, get sauced and go sky-diving. She gained my respect right there.
We talked a little more. I got tired and started thumbing through pages of my book which signaled to her that I needed a break from talking to strangers. Even if this one was particularly interesting. We landed. She gave me a weak handshake and said that since we worked across the street we would probably bump into each other. She paused as thought she was waiting for my to ask for her contact information. I didn’t. She told me her name. I promptly forgot.
I often say I hate to talk to people. Although that’s what I do for a living. I told her I was a reporter so I write for a living. She said that made me a nerd. I took the compliment. I told her to behave herself. She was going to Vegas. She said she wouldn’t. She was right. Vegas is for misbehaving. I was going to Oregon for work. Behaving was my only option. That was fine with me. Sometimes I’m content to be a leaf blowing in the wind.

Occasionally when I’m covering a race out of state (I’m a track and field reporter), I see a team that I cover. I usually pretend that I don’t see them. I’m sure they do the same. I think I spend enough time invading their personal space when they’re panting and holding down vomit and wiping spit off their faces after a race. So I try to stand clear if I see them in the airport or anywhere else that’s not a track or a cross country course. So when I saw Burnt Hills in the terminal in Phoenix, I tugged my hat a little lower and tucked my chin to my chest and lost myself in my Blackberry.
Then next time I looked up I saw Bernard Lagat, one of the best distance runners in the world waiting outside a Starbucks in the terminal with Abdi Abdiramhnan. They both competed at the University of Arizona and I knew that Lagat lived in Arizona and was sponsored by Nike, which told me they were both headed to Portland as well for the meet as Nike representatives. Not long after, I saw Brian Grant walk by. I only remembered that he played for the Miami Heat but later learned that he was from Oregon and the people out there remembered him as a Portland Trailblazer. They were all on my flight. You’d think I had chartered a Nike jet or something.
But Lagat and Abdi definitely walked into coach with me while Grant lounged in first-class. Being the best in the world in track and field doesn’t always mean you’re rich.
I walked on the plane after everyone else. Everyone but Abdi and Lagat. Somehow I ended up between them as we handed our tickets to the gate clerk and entered the vestibule that takes you from the gate to the plane. I asked Abdi if he wanted to wait for Lagat (I called him Bernard for some reason) and he just nod as if I had known them both and let me go ahead.
“Where’d you get that bag from?” he said behind me.
I was wearing an USA Olympic Trials backpack I’d bought in Eugene, Oregon when I covered the 2008 Trials. I casually told him that I went out there for work, that I wrote about track and that it’d be a long time since I’d raced. I had to throw in that part so that he knew that at least I used to run. He seemed genuinely disappointed, like somehow he was no longer allowed to speak to me. By then Lagat had joined us and we chatted a bit about the fact that they were making us check our bags. Some nonsense about there not being any room in the overhead bins, which seemed strange to me since the people telling us that didn’t have on headsets or walkie-talkies and were outside of the plane just like us.
Either way, I spoke to a couple Olympians, saw an NBA player and chatted with a overweight girl who happened to work across the street from me and wasn’t afraid to plunge to out of a plane to potential demise soon after rolling up an L.
The plane landed and I picked up my rental and headed toward the hotel. My phone rang.
“How was the flight?” a friend asked.
It was cool I guess.

Selfish bastards...

2009-11-23T09:07:00.000-08:00

Think about what your perfect relationship will be. Think about all the things you want from a relationship, all the things that perfection entails. Actually, forget perfection, think about what cohesion entails. The ideal relationship for you. Now stop.
If you all the things that you listed in your head have anything to do with what you can do for the your potential mate, if you didn't think about what you can bring to the table, what you can do to make the relationship ideal for your mate as well then congratulations you are well on your way to being a selfish partner. Correction: you can't be a selfish "partner" you'll be more like a leech in the relationship. You take but don't give and then believe that your presence allow qualifies as the reward -- "allowing" that person to be with you.

So I had this conversation with a couple of friends at different times. And I swear they listed all the things they require from a man they plan to marry or date. It went from everything to how much money he should make, to what time he should come home from work, how much time he should spend with his friends, what his responsibilities should be in the house, what nationality he should be and lots of other superficial things. Now I'll say for the benefit of the doubt that this was meant to be a conversation about the superficial things women want from relationships. Yet somehow these requirements seemed unyielding and concrete. But when I asked them what they plan to bring to the relationship in order for qualify all these requirements somehow a bunch of crickets found their way into the room and I couldn't hear an answer.

It's fine to believe in yourself, to believe that your presence alone will better someone else's life. But it's not fair to walk into a relationship knowing all the things you want and yet have no clue what you're willing to do to earn those things. I might be wrong, but I find that many women are working hard to be strong and independent. They expect to be courted and spoiled. My question is how can you expect to be spoiled and not being willing to "spoil" your partner? I don't mean spoil like you would a child. What I mean is to make your partner feel special, feel wanted. To make them feel great. You should remind your man that he is great and that you appreciate his greatness. Men should be doing the same. If they are not, they are failing you and your relationship is severely unbalanced and you will undoubtedly begin to feel both unappreciated and under-valued.

Too many people give only in hopes that they will get something in return. Make someone feel special because they ARE special. Not because you hope they will return the favor. If you don't feel inclined to do things to make your partner feel special then you probably don't like them that much. In that case, don't be so selfish that you keep them around simply because you enjoy the way they make you feel.

Stepping down off my soapbox now.

Randomness

"I've got some issues that nobody can see.... And all of these emotions are pouring out of me. ... I'll bring them to the light for you." ... Or maybe I won't because that's not really my style.... I deal with things myself because something inside of me tells me that I'm built for that. I refuse to be anyone else's burden but my own. ... So the Soundtrack to My Life will be played by a set of headphones that only I can hear. .... I'm Mister Solo/Dolo. .... At least I feel that way sometimes. ..... Clearly Kid Cudi's in my speakers and I feel like this dude is speaking directly to me. .... Maybe someone understands. .... I can't believe the Knicks didn't pick up Iverson. Actually I can believe it. Why would we want Iverson? What the Knicks should do is go find out where Fredric Weis is and go re-sign him. Assholes. .... Miles to go before I sleep. .... Great line. ..... I don't know what it is but the very second I walk through the door at work my entire disposition changes. Today I sat on the train for an entire hour to go ONE stop and I didn't get mad. But as soon as I wanted into the office I felt ready to punch the first person I saw. ... Today is one of those days where I wish I could press the Reset button like Life was a Nintendo game. Then I'd take out the cartridge, blow on it and hope Life works better when I put the game back in. .... Somehow when the air is a little smokey I tend to see things more clearly. How's that work? *wink* ....

C

Guess I felt like writing...

2009-11-18T09:47:00.000-08:00

I find that one of the most frustrating things about being a writer is not being able to write. How can you be defined by an action that you don't do? It's frustrating and discouraging and almost embarrassing. Sort of makes me a fraud. I keep waiting to have this epiphany. Some inspiration. I keep waiting for the light to shine from above that beckons me to my true calling. Grand Divine Intervention.

My phone vibrated the other night. I picked up. Text message. "When God tells you to sit down, you don't go looking for a chair!!!"

I've gotten that same text message more times that I remember. More often that not, I file it under Worthless and Ridiculous Utterances and then toss the phone with no response. That message baffled me for years. Maybe because I never really took the time to decipher it. If God told me to sit down, I'd sit down. Of course I'd need a chair. But when you're a kid and your mother tells you to sit down right now, you don't walk into the next room to pull out a chair from the dining table. You sit down where you are. On the floor. On a couch. On your hands. You just sit down.

I've been admitting hiding lately and when you're alone, your thoughts tend to come keep you company. Now instead of backing in a corner and letting my thoughts attack me like some wild-eyed mob, I decided to sit down and have a round table. So I sat down with my thoughts and made more time for self-reflection and introspection. I've come to absolutely no decisions yet but it's been exciting, scary and extremely frustrating, once again trying to find out who I am. Because you are defined by the things that you produce. You're labeled, even by yourself, by the things that you do.

So I decided that I'm going to follow my instances instead of waiting for the sky to open and for the gods to grant me a grand vision of my illuminated life path. I'm going to get a cutlass and cop through the bush. I'll carve my path. I'll sit on the floor. And once I find my way, I'll get up and run like the trackstar that I should have been.

Randomness....

Damn it's been a while. ....Apparently Trey Songz is my friend in my head. .... Bet the Neighbors Know My Name.... That shit is hilarious. .... I hope the Knicks get Iverson. Not because it'll make them better. They suck. But at least it'll give people a reason to watch. .... It's either that or I say that we get together and kidnap Brandon Jennings. .... I think about writing every day and yet nothing comes out. It's like being constipated. We all know how annoying that is. ... I think Drake's song "Forever" is one of my favorite rap songs of all time. No bullshit. .... Right now I'll read anything I can get my hands on. ... People really are inconsiderate bastards. I saw this lady on the train the other day with her ass literally about one inch from this other lady's face. It was completely hilarious to me. But if I was that women there would have been a misunderstanding on that train. .... Precious was a great movie. It baffled me that a lot of people were laughing inappropriately in the movie theater. I can only believe that most of them didn't read the book and didn't fully grasp the severity of the situation. .... Either that or people, in their adult lives, went to the movies to laugh at the type of kids they made fun of in school. I was two seconds off slapping the lady next to me. And her boyfriend would have got it worse. ... Girl I got that dope dick. Now come and let me dope you. You gon' be a dope fiend. Your friends should call you Doppy. ... Sometimes music is so fun. .... Today's public schools SUCK. Social promotion SUCKS. Bloomberg sucks. Bill Thompson sucks so much that he could only talk about how much Bloomberg sucked. .... Should I be more concerned about the Swine Flu? Especially being that I've met about 10 people in the last two weeks that said they had it. .... "Everyday a star is born. Clap for 'em.".... Clap for me. ... I'm reborn.

Yup.

-C

Trust is earned... kinda

2009-08-03T09:18:00.000-07:00

So clearly for months now I've been slacking with this. I've been blogged about my writer's block. I've vented, argued with myself. I've given myself pep talks on this blog and made promises to get better and at the end, nothing. But I didn't get on today to talk about the things that I haven't done. I guess I needed someplace to escape to and something I forget that my keyboard, despite the fact that it can be the root of some agony, it truly is my sanctuary. It's the place where I can let loose, even if it's under the guise of flowery words, imagery and a flow that's meant to captivate and entertain.

But a friend of mine said to me recently that they wanted to her my own voice in my blog, not Def Poetry Jam. I laughed. I thought, this is my voice. It's not the way I speak but these are my thoughts, my ideas and my painting but I guess the paint sometimes hides what's behind the canvas. I'm the canvas. (Damn, there goes the imagery again.)

So this blog is meant to be more personal. This is my voice. This is me. Alright, so recently a lot of my conversations have revolved around a central theme that is at the core of every relationship, friendship, marriage, partnership, etc. The issue is Trust. It's the ultimate co-sign, the great equalizer. It truly decides every social interaction you have and will ever have.

Now the saying goes that Trust is earned, not given. I personally think that's bullshit. Trust is given. It's handed out to strangers like a gift bag and inside there's a little note that reads, "Now you have this trust, if you don't fuck it up I'll give you more." People trust you when you're dependable, when you're there if they need a favor, or if you're always available, if you do what you say you're going to do and you're accessible. Trust to most people, means that you'll be there if they ask for you. Now I say all this and in the same breath I'll admit that I don't have a lot of friends. I feel like many people make this claim but I can legitimately say there are about two people that I speak to every single day and the way things are going that number is about to be cut in half. Part of the reason for that is trust. It's the reason why the number was 2 in the first place and why 2 is transforming to 1. I ask myself frequently if this speaks to my own trustworthiness.

I realize that I've never had a lot of friends or I should say "kept" a lot of friends. People in my life have been "seasonal" and some seasons last longer than others. But I can't say that there's one person in my life that I speak to on a regular basis that I've known since I was a kid. There's no one that you'll see me with in a club or bar or randomly coming to my house to chill or me in their house that can tell you that they've known me my whole life. Now there are people like that that are in my life, people that my brother and I grew up with. But somehow as we got older they became more my brother's friends than mine. That also goes with family. I have a lot of family that speak to my brother much more than they speak to me. Does that mean I'm not a social person? Does it mean that I'm not friendly or likable or approachable? Or does it simply mean that there's no trust built between those people and myself?

I find that I learn things about my brother from his friends and sometimes even my friends. I find out things about my father from my mother and things about my sister from my brother. Or maybe I'm just a loner or an outsider. I know that I'm very comfortable being alone. I hate to depend on anyone for anything. I hate to ask for help. Sometimes I don't mind venting to friends. I have no issues complaining about all the money that I don't have or my thoughts about my job or my career path but I have my most revealing moments when I'm alone in the dark. So my friends may know that I'm stressed but not how stressed I truly am. They may know that I'm angry but never know that I was on the verge of tears earlier or that I hadn't slept in 3 days. Those are roads that I've chosen to travel alone. Does that make me seem untrustworthy or just an introvert. This is not to say that I've always been the best friend ever, that I haven't done things that are "unfriendly" but I think all of us have had these moments right? I guess the thing is that I rarely have had the type of relationship where once the relationship is damaged it's clear whether it's worth salvaging.

Because of that I've become increasingly accepting of that pattern. I know that people will come and go in my life. Some will seem so close to me today but pack their bags tomorrow and never be seen again. I guess whatever their reasons are I've come to expect that even more than I accept it. And I certainly play my part in that. I allow people to come and go at their leisure, simply opening and closing the door behind them. Again, I'll say that I am by far not a perfect person and there are relationships that have been damaged or eliminated at my hands. Either way, I'm rambling now. Back to the point.

Even when trust is lost, in reality there is nothing you can do to "rebuild" it. You can do all the things you did before your indiscretion but it's up to the person to hand over the trust again. If they never "decide" that you're trustworthy again then all the "earning" in the world isn't going to change that. That's why people talk about forgiveness being an essential part of life. It's why having faith in someone is one of the most important parts of a friendship or relationship. Now, I'm no expert but that's my opinion. Sometimes I don't even think I trust myself. There have been more than enough times that I've swore to myself that I wouldn't do something and then did it anyway; plenty of times I've betrayed myself. But I can't get away from me so all I can do is rebuild, accept and forgive then improve.

I did a lot of talking in this blog. More than I've done in awhile. I'm going to end here. Suffice it to say that trust isn't earned, it's given. And you're given more once you don't fuck up the trust that you got for free. That includes the person in the mirror. Even when the person in the mirror is me.

Ok I'm done venting. Congratulations if you made it to the end of this post.

Lost...

2009-07-16T12:08:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I wake up in the morning and don’t know where I am. Everything looks familiar. The bed. The nightstand. The television is mine and the cable box on top of it and the DVD player on top of that. Those hats are mine. Those books belong to me. I bought those shoes.
But somehow this place seems strange. Foreign. It’s like I know here, but I don’t. I’ve been here many times but this feels like the first time – uncomfortable, restless. I’m searching for a way out but I’m not sure where I’m headed. So then the question becomes, what do I do? If I walk out the door, I have no idea which direction I’m headed. Or I could stay here, where it’s warm and where somehow I know instinctively where everything is.
Damn I wish I had a map.

Randomness….
Maxwell station on Pandora is, eh, okay. …. Common station is poppin though. …. Is Nate Robinson really going oversees? I think that’s just going to piss me off. … My friend told me to stop being a bitch and figure out what I’m going to do with my life. … She’s right. … Except for the bitch part. That was mucho. … .I think that’s my new phrase. …. Mucho Mucho. … I love it. … But not as much as I love FTS. It’s a movement. Get right or get left. …. Give me the green light. Give me just one night. I’m ready to go right now. … I always find it funny when someone asks for my help with writing. I’m thinking, “damn I’ve really got them fooled, don’t I?” …. Why the fuck is Jordan Hill a Knick? Damn I’m getting pissed all over again. … When Golden State comes to New York I swear I’m going to kidnap Stephen Curry. … Great now the feds are investigating my blog. Dear Mr. Agent, please read the first blog. Yeah the one where I said I’ll write what the fuck I want. Thanks. … I miss Passa Passa nights. Get Fresh Crew, Handsome Family , GNS. What up! … It’s still amazing to me that I can walk into work whenever I want and leave whenever I want. So sometimes I’m in late and out early yet there’s always someone that comes in after me and leave before me. Now that’s a SMH moment if I ever saw one. … Really sucks that I need a new car. But I’m exciting for all the losing I’m about to do. … I need the kind of change that only Sam Cooke can bring. … Sade in my head right now. … I’d wife it.

C

Tryin to get right...

2009-07-14T08:25:00.000-07:00

It’s crazy that I haven’t been here for awhile. I had promised myself that I wouldn’t abandon this and I won’t. But the idleness of this space only reminded me of a single thing: that I am perpetually afraid of not being perfect. So this experiment reinforced that. I am back now because I refuse to let this space die, this space that has allowed to me to completely be myself and purge my thoughts before someone else had a chance to call them into question.
I told a friend recently that everyone needs a place where only their thoughts exist. Everyone needs a place where only their ideas are relevant. The side effect to that is that it opens the possibility for you to challenge yourself and then convince yourself that you can’t. I think I had convinced myself that I can’t. Well, not that I “can’t” but that I “couldn’t.” I couldn’t find something that sounded perfect, something that would earn me a pat on the back, a tap on the head. Then the other day I overheard a conversation between brothers where the older one exclaimed, “I don’t need anyone to feel me. I feel myself enough.”
I don’t need anyone to feel me. I feel myself enough.
Why was I looking for someone else to feel what I’m saying? How did this place become a workshop for validation instead of my haven of freedom? I’m writing this to remind myself that I’m good at what I do.
This is what I do.
So I wouldn’t need anyone to tell me how great I am. I don’t need for my words to inspire anyone. I will inspire myself and hopefully the crowd will form behind me like the kids chasing Rocky through Philly or better yet the folks to trailed Forrest Gump around the country and found inspiration in something he did simply because he felt like it. “I just felt like running.”
I just feel like writing. I just feel like being better than I’ve ever been. I just feel like finding greatness. Wait, this sounds familiar. Here’s the thing about these blank pages – I can say whatever I want. So let me correct myself, if this is supposed to be one of the few places were unfettered honesty is embraced. I’m done waiting for greatness to find me, standing here with my arms open with this silly yet welcoming smile. This is my responsibility. My promise to myself. To be great each day. Somehow better each day.
OK, great pep talk. Let’s get to work.

Randomness…..
On plane from Houston to NY …. 13 hours of traveling, a 90-minute flight delay, bad airplane food, a seat that doesn’t recline and somehow the “upright position” has me oddly leaning forward. … It’s amazing that I haven’t been aggravated once today. … Could be that I had four of the best days of my life back-to-back-to-back in Panama. … Un Paradiso por favor y 17 shots of vodka? …. Hey that’s all the Spanish I got. … Oh yea and I figured out that hookah is dulce fumar … So is something else (evil laugh). …. Jill Scott is beasting in my headphones right now. … Lauryn Hill demolished that MTV Unplugged show. Remember that? … Think about the last time a contemporary artist directly challenged our complete social structure in a song or in her case 14 songs. … Jay-Z turned his Unplugged session into a poetry Slam. … Name five rappers that could sit on a stool and shut down a coffee bar. … There’s only so much you can drink before even the sight of a bottle makes you want to yack your brains out. …. There’s only so many times a person can say “I’m not drunk” before they have to come to grips with reality. … Or walk in a straight line. … I couldn’t take a phone call or get on the internet for four straight days. … And I loved every second of it. …. Ok back to reality. Oops, there goes gravity. … I enjoy anyone that I can talk to about the Knicks, hip-hop, the Vybz Kartel vs. Mavado battle, the greed that stems from capitalism, the pros and cons of socialism and what exactly is the difference between good head and great head. …. Now that’s a soul mate. … She’s from the Chi…. Kanye in the IPod now.
C

Cause I feel like being Random

2009-05-20T07:52:00.000-07:00

Randomness....

Listening to The Calm.... Waiting for the Storm.... Damn outside is Warm. ... Damn I miss my Dorm. .... I wanna take it Back. .... This real life shit is Wack. .... Feel like the whole world's on my Back. .... Damn I need a Track..... I got flows. .....What if writing was like being a rapper? What if all I had to do was write about all the expensive crap I want and the women that I've been with? Would you still read it? What you still be a fan? .... I moved on to Biggie's Ready to Die. ... I'm all that and a dime sack. Where da paper at? Gimme da loot! .... I've decided that I'm the opposite of a feminist. I'm not a chauvinist. I'll call myself the Defender of the Degradation of Men. And with this position I promise to fight against women who spread the stereotypes of me and fight the men that constantly co-sign them. .... Men are not inherently immature, savage, whore-mongering, selfish, insensitive cavemen. ..... Every man is different just like every woman is different. Some are whores. Some are insensitive. Some are selfish and stupid and mean. ... Some will love you so hard it'll make your face hurt. Others will ignore you, the way men are "supposed" to. ....There are a couple songs on Drake's album that literally pull words from my mouth. .... I just wanna be successful. ... I don't need to be rich. I don't need a Bentley coupe or a sky-rise apartment. I don't need to be have a suit for everyday of the year and my sneaker game so crazy that I can wear two pairs of sneakers everyday for a year and never repeat. .... I just want to be able to pay my bills without trying to gauge how much money I'll have to eat until my next pay day. I just want to be able to go on vacation without having to have a "fuck it" moment. .... I just want to feel accomplished. I want to feel like what I do matters to someone other than the people that generally like me as a person. ..... I'm glad that Obama made a new regulation to better gas mileage on cars but really, who's buying American cars anyway? .... I'm reading the Audacity of Hope too. This dude really got me convinced that he really just wants to do the right thing for the country, not the Democratic thing or the Republican thing, not the left thing or the right thing but the RIGHT thing. ... I met a girl the other day that quit her job, the job that she went to school to do, to become a make-up artist. Because that's what she wanted to do. I couldn't possible have any more respect for her. She's my idol right now. .... Not just because she took a risk and quit her job but because she could pinpoint the thing that would make her most happy in life. Then she found the courage to allow success into her life. ..... I feel like I'm an explorer trying to find the treasure in my own life. Not really sure what I'm looking for but I know that "something" is in this jungle somewhere. ... I'll know when I find it. .... Oh yeah, me and Procrastination are sooo back together. Gym told me to go fuck myself and I think I've run about twice since I wrote that wonderful piece about running. FML ....

Mirror

2009-05-17T17:03:00.000-07:00

There are days when I ask myself who I am. There are days when I wonder how it became so, that I would do certain things and say certain things. There are days when I wonder how my passions were molded. Why do my eyes see the world this way?

On those days I look in the mirror.

I stare until I find what I'm looking for. I search my own eyes for answers. I search my own face for resolution. Then I watch while my jet black hair sprouts and grows near my shoulder while some gray uniformed strains infiltrate my scalp. My cheeks round and my skin's hue darkens a few shades. There are lines on my face from when I smiled too much. It shows that I cried too. Big cries. The kinds that scar the inside. The kind that time heals.

I find wisdom in my own eyes -- eyes that have seen growth and success and failure. These eyes have seen life and survived death. These eyes are hopeful and resilient, compassionate and experienced.

My heart beats differently.

This heart is big enough to love the world. This heart has a capacity that I've only strived to. This heart has been broken over and over and yet defiantly beats stronger each time it has healed all by itself. This heart gives with no thought of restitution. The heart knows Life. It knows that Life will find repayment, whether it's today, tomorrow or in the next lifetime. I look down.

My hands shrink smaller. My fingers are thinner. These are a teacher's hands, a molder's hands.

A Mother's hands.

There is nothing I have accomplished without your hand pressed against my back. There is no truth I have spoken that you didn't insert into my thoughts. My successes are yours. My failures are my deviations from the path that you illuminated for me. You make me smile in a way that warms me like the sun. You are my light. You are where I seek salvation. You are where I find my truth.

You are my example. You are my friend. I love you.

Thank you. You didn't just make me.

You made me.

-Your Son.

I don't usually does this but uh........

2009-04-30T10:08:00.000-07:00

I want to say that I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. But the truth is that I wake up and roll off the same side of the bed every morning. It's just this morning Life was waiting at the front door with his fists up. I'm not sure what got into him but he was clearly pissed and was looking for company this morning. So now I'm pissed. We're both pissed. So what did his aggression solve?
Sometimes it takes a lot not to turn into that guy that shoots up the McDonald's because his Big Mac didn't look like the one in the picture. So today I want to spaze because this life doesn't look like the one I wanted to buy in the picture. This is a soggy ass, thin, despicable excuse for a burger and I wish I could pull a sawed-off shotgun on the cashier and calmly say, "Excuse me Sir, but this isn't what I ordered."

Today is that day when if they can't get my burger right I swear I'm gonna shoot up the place.

Today, I had to find money that I didn't have to help pay for something that I can't afford. And that's not the annoying part. The prize is that it still wasn't enough to fix the problem so not only did it plant a small bomb in my pocket but it served as reminder the size of one of those flying advertisement banners that reads, "You're broke...... And you're an asshole. ..... Asshole." Then when I decide to drive to work, I roll through the e-z pass lane only to stop when barrier doesn't lift itself to let me pass. There goes the e-z part.And there goes that damn flying advertisement again. Off to work. Nothing better than walking into a place that generally pisses you off than walking in pissed off already. Oddly enough though, I wasn't pissed. Yet. I had the great fortune of receiving a Dunkin Donuts coffee cup with a small hole in it. Apparently the cup knew that my shirt was feeling somewhat parched and decided to offer it a taste of toasted almond coffee. Great.

So currently I'm expending the majority of my energy restraining myself from cracking a stranger in the face. I think it's only fair that they feel what I feel. These are the days that I imagine myself having a Samurai sword that's magically connected to my spirit so it belongs to only me. Then I slip through Manhattan stealth-like. I'm a ninja and it will be my honor to take home several heads with me as sacrifice to the gods.

But I'm getting off topic. Clearly the e-z pass is no longer easy. It's the line to be embarrassed because everyone who's impatiently waiting behind now knows that you have an issue with your bill. Maybe I should have taken the train today. Wait, I just looked at the newspaper. Fare hike. Again. The MTA official call it a doomsday plan. Another called it "horrific." Where's my sword? Scratch that. Where's that shotgun. To hell with it, I'm carrying both.

Is this venting or plotting? Am I crazy or frustrated? Blood-thirsty or fed up? So the sun is going to come out tomorrow. But what good is that if it shines on the same pile of shit and makes it stink worse? This is an attempt to turn the pen into a broom. No, maybe the pen can be the gun or the Samurai sword. I'll use the words to cloak in darkness while Life pays for its indiscretions. No, no, the pen will be the broom so that I can sweep up the pile and tomorrow the sun will shine on me.

If not, the gun is still loaded.

C

Random writings..... (unfinished)

2009-04-14T14:45:00.000-07:00

It felt like I woke up before the world. I felt like I was all alone, knowing that the rest of the world existed but that they only existed because of me. When I woke up, someone pressed the Play button on life and every scene waited for me to enter at Stage Left before Action. Do people really exist when they aren't around me. Is this world real or am I part of someone else's imagination?

Somehow everything became a silent movie and even though I was sitting there as a character, I felt outside. I was a spectator. Maybe I just turned the channel. Do I belong here?

But there is something tranquil about observing the world in its stillness. Those are the few minutes that you witness life in its daily purity, before it's corrupted by people and curse words and stereotypes and pressures and failures and greed and selfishness. It's the time before people corrupt space by their inner. Each night the darkness cleans the earth and each morning ushers in freshness. I guess the morning is good.

And if this wasn't random enough.....RANDOMNESS

Ryan Leslie is more talented that I've imagined being. I just need him to button his shirt. .... Drake is a monster. Even though he looks like Al B. Sure's kid. I'd buy his album twice though. .... Steve Harvey's book is propaganda. Public Service Announcement: No man can tell you how ALL men think. .... Why does that thought just sound stupid to me yet people are reading this book like he's the Pied Piper. .... Read PUSH. I'm 70 pages in and it's one of the best books I've ever read. .... T.I. had machine guns in his house and went to jail for a year.... machine guns, semi-automatic rifles, pistols, loaded magazines and $10,000 cash in his car. Yet Weezy goes on TV and tells Katie Couric that he's a gansta because he says what he wants. .... If I'm supposed to be a writer, why has writing been so hard? .... Either I'm afraid to be good or I'm just not that good at this. .... Sometimes I want to disappear. Not out of existence. Just out of the world. Give me a house in Middle Earth right next to Frodo. .... We out here angry that President Obama bowed his head to the leader of another country. We should be happy that our leader can show some humility instead of being arrogant fucks like the rest of us. See how far that "We rule the world" shit got us last time. ... I haven't visited Gym in awhile. But I'm good. Running is keeping me company. .... Sometimes I feel so fly, I'm satellite and my swag is playing catch up. .... Sometimes I wear Swag like clothes to cover up the fact that I feel naked underneath. .... People have no problem being analytical but think that introspection is a made-up word. .... Randomness is healthy because it doesn't force me to color inside the lines. .... If I can run for 30 minutes a day, I can write for 30 minutes a day.

I hope reading isn't exhausting.

Why I Run.....

2009-04-11T14:41:00.001-07:00

The reason why some people become addicted to running is because it offers an almost absolute truth. It is objective. It is forthright. Unrelenting. Painfully honest. Joyfully cruel.
Running will never tell you that you can do something that you can't. If X then Y. If you work then you will be rewarded. The rewards are minimal. But every reward is personally noticeable and provides a reason to attempt torturing yourself through another 30-minute run tomorrow. Running is not racist. It doesn't show class bias. It's not sexist. It doesn't judge based on religion or whether you're a mean person or nice or funny for fat or skinny or bald or stupid or ignorant. Running doesn't care if you're Democrat or Republican or if you give to charity or mentor children. It doesn't care if you're selfish or a recluse.
But running cares if you run. It cares if you challenge yourself. And Running will punish you if you don't. It might even punish you if you do. Running challenges you to punish yourself, to torture or body. Call it sadomasochistic meditation.
Running allows you time to push your limits and the only judge of success is You. The watch presents the facts. You decide if the mission is failed or accomplished.
And despite your own personal limits, running has none and it inspires you to follow suit. It tells you that there is always something better than what you've done, yet gives you the leeway to enjoy today's improvement.
Today my legs didn't feel like I was lugging two tree trunks. Today my heart didn't feel like it would tear a hole in my chest. Today my body cursed me out for running those first four miles and then decided to come along for the fifth mile anyway.
Today I shaved five seconds off the 3-mile loop that I ran last week.
Today I endured a run in the rain.

Today, I actually finished my run.

Today, I didn't walk.

Today, I survived.

My legs aren't what they used to be. I remember when my chest felt like an inexhaustible engine and my legs were more like wheels. Some days my body was more ready to run than I was. My legs would beg my mind to get me off this bed so they could please get a workout. Now my legs are spoiled, fat and spiteful. They resist my every stride. They are angry about the 50 extra pounds they are forced to carry and disgusted by the aching they must endure afterward.
The hard part is that I remember what it's like to be fast. I remember when six-minute miles were normal. When 6:45 was "conversational pace" and anything slower than that was a jog. Now anything faster than 9-minute pace is an all-out sprint. Now if I raced my best friend barefoot down the block, an ambulance and oxygen mask better be on stand by.

Well, not now. That was before.

Now I don't need to be fast. Now I just need to finish what I start. Now I'm just happy to put one foot in front of the other. I'd be happy to see the numbers on the scale recede. I'd be happy if my legs weren't so damn disagreeable. But they're getting the point. We're going to run whether they like it or not. And every day will be a reward. Every second shaved. Every breath that wasn't an uncontrollable pant. I'm happy just to run. I'm happy just to finish.

Standoff...

2009-04-01T16:40:00.001-07:00

A blank page is so disrespectful. It looks at you, defiant and proud. Clean. Just waiting for you to paint the picture. But when your mind is as blank as the page in front of you all the emptiness just leaves room for frustration to crawl its sneaky ass into your mind. Fucker.
So I got a plan. I’m going to keep soiling this page with my words until a story forms. I’m going to be as persistently, blindly flagrant as this blank page. I wish I could just throw a pail of genius on the page and cover it in its entirety. Then throw the next page up to do the same. But you have to be methodical with these pages, cover it line by line, inch by inch, word by word until it drowns in your thoughts. You have to watch while it fades into the sea like the villain and disappears into the pool of lava until his index finger is the last thing slowly sinking in.
This is the standoff. Me and you Page. I’m going to sit here until I dress you to my liking. Or at this point, dress you at all, because I’ve let you remain naked too long. At this point your outfit doesn’t matter. You’ll wear what I tell you to wear.
I’ve been subordinate too long. I waited for you to come to me. I waited for you to then validate me. I’m taking control now – of you and myself. I will focus here. I will decide my pace or I will sit here and stare at each other until I feel I’ve concentrated on one thing for a sufficient amount of time.
You’ve been winning. But I’m gonna take this thing back. Inch by Inch until you’re as filled as I know my mind is.

Purge....

2009-03-30T08:58:00.000-07:00

What do I do when the pen betrays me? I know I'm supposed to be in control. But there were so many times when the pen took over. There were so many times that I watched while the pen did the work and all I need to do was read. The pen provided not only the words, but the creativity, the rhythm, the method, the pull and the insight.
What do I do when the pen refuses to do my work for me? Could it be the pen is just tired, sick of me, allowing it, to fly solo. Maybe my pen is challenging me. Do I have a gift? Or is the pen the gift?
Does being a great writer require arrogance or self-consciousness? Does it require both? What makes someone talented? How many people have to co-sign your talent for it to be certified?
What if everyone co-signs but me?

How can I get my pen to trust me again? It wasn't always like this. The pen was my vessel. My foundation. My picture when words escaped my breath. So I want the team back. Me and the pen. I'll pull my load this time. I still can't believe the pen turned on me so quickly.

Maybe this will be the re-creation of me. Let's call it the Perfection of C.

I'll cut this short while we make a mends. Baby steps.

Some advice....

2009-02-27T19:37:00.000-08:00

This took me two weeks to write. That's how hard it's been for me to write anything lately....

I went to a press conference today. It was mostly boring, probably too long and more disorganized than it looked. Plus it seemed that most people, the press included, didn’t care to be there. To some extent the invited athletes cared. Probably because they got a chance to feel important in a sport that usually leaves them feeling largely ignored outside of those closely related to the sport.

But the most interesting thing that happened was that a kid gave me his card. He said that he remembered me and that he wanted to talk to me. That maybe I could help him. For the most part, I’m flattered. But in my head I’m saying, “Shit I was hoping that you’d know somebody that can help me. I ain’t nobody.” He was impressed by me because of my job and I was impressed by him because he’s a great athlete. Which brings me to a larger question: Why aren’t we more impressed with ourselves?

There’s something to be said for humility of course. My arm is certainly long enough to pat my own back. But where is the line between acknowledging yourself and being an arrogant fuck? Now the phrases seem far in relation but the reality isn’t. It’s as simple as someone says, “Hey, that shirt is hot.” To which you respond, “I know. It is kinda fire ain’t it?” But you could also say thank you, knowing that you’re shirt is hot and then go to the mall and look for an even hotter shirt. You could also simply appreciate the fact that you made a good choice that day in the mall and take that moment to feel good about yourself.

I digress. The long analogy is simply to say that we live in a world obsessed with success, however one defines it. And because of that we’re in a chase to find something intangible, something that you’ll likely define and then redefine once you think you’ve gotten closer to it. Whenever I’ve gotten a raise I decided I needed to make even more money. Whenever I’ve gotten a job I decided that I need a better job. Now to some extent that is just fine. Never being satisfied forces a person to continually look to improve themselves and their current situation. But at some point we all need to take inventory.

We need to look at our college diploma and smile and the accomplishment. Look at the fact that you still have a job or that your boss maybe paid you a compliment last week. If you don’t have a job, then you should be proud of yourself for not turning to the streets yet. Commend yourself for holding back from knocking off the local liquor store or kicking the first person in the face that tells you how much they hate their job when all you’ve been asking God to provide for you for months is a paycheck. Take account of how diligent you’ve been in looking for a job or making the most out of the job you do have, or at least trying to.

Sometimes you need to be proud of yourself. Even if you need to look for a reason to. If you don’t suck your own dick, who will?

Sometimes you need to take account of your talents. Get in touch with your star player. Yes, the star player on your team is you. If it’s not, then you need to spend extra time in practice changing the plays and making yourself the go-to guy.

Thank yourself for being exactly who you are. Then challenge yourself to be even better.

Randomness......

Knicks just pissed me off. ..... I hear Robin Thicke in my mind. His first album. Well, his first hot one. .... In the past month at work I've met Tiki Barber, Carl Lewis and Kim Smith who is one of the fastest distance runners in the history of the world and a lot of times I'm still sick of being in the office. .... It's Black History Month so I bought The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes. I'm happy about that. .... Having money's not everything, not having it is. .... Damn Kanye drops some gems. .... I had to pay $1316 to fix my car the other day. Man I wish I could have kicked the mechanic in the nuts. I woulda pissed myself laughing. ... I need a haircut so bad I'm about four days off from officially being a vagabond. .... Girls never want dudes to try to holla at them and then they complain about being single. Stupid. ..... Fuck yo couch Charlie Murphy!!!!.... LMAO.... Sorry I couldn't hold that one in. .... Is it counterproductive to try to go to the gym a lot and then go home and drink and smoke?? ... By the way, Gym and I aren't back together but we're trying to work things out. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank her for giving me a second chance and apologize for not visiting her today. Love you baby. See you Sunday. ... Procrastination is a fucking whore ass bitch and she's so tight right now that I've been ignoring her like the nerdy kid in third grade. .... How come if the White House lawn is full watermelons this year, it wasn't full of crackers last year and every year before. .... It's so much easier to think of all the things you don't have than all the crap that you actually do have. .... Sex advice for the day: Anything you do in the bedroom is so much better for all parties if you actually like doing it. And please, don't do anything in the sheets simply because you're hoping to get something in return. Ain't nothing worse than a girl looking at your dick, taking a deep breath and making the "OK lemme just get this over with" face. Then you'll give me wack head and we'll both be miserable and want you to leave before your teeth skims my head for the first time. .... I can't believe it's been a month since I've done this. Some folk had no qualms about reminding me of that. ... I appreciate it though. Thanks for reading. ..... I'm out. Promise I'll be back soon. Procrastination got wrapped. I'm working on Gym. I can't let Blog leave me. I love her.

C

THE TWELVE STEPS OF SNEAKERHOLICS ANONYMOUS

2009-02-26T10:55:00.000-08:00

So because I been doing everything in life but updating my blog. I got someone to do my work for me. This blog is for educational purposes. An emergency help dial-in will follow.

************************************

I know often you read about people in life who are plagued with addictions of all kinds that they find extremely hard to get over. You watch reality shows about drug addicts trying to make it through rehab in order to be a “functional member of society”. I guess addictions come in all shapes and sizes. Although some may seem easy to break or not worth being discussed, you can never judge until one day your that addict. Good Afternoon, My name is The Golden Child and I am addicted to Sneakers.

Just like Alcoholics Anonymous, we too have a 12 step process we must undergo. This is the 1st step in a 12 step series blog:

Step 1: You must first admit you are powerless over sneakers and that your life has become unmanageable. To do this you must recognize the signs of a sneaker addict, therefore allowing you to see your condition for what it truly is; an addiction.

Some of these signs are easily seen, but some are harder to recognize then others. Or maybe it’s our addiction that blinds us to these signs. Here is a list of common sneaker addict signs.

* If you own enough sneakers to start your own sneaker store, including several you have never even wore, you’re an Addict!!!
* If you spend your last $100 on a pair of sneakers, and eat cup a noodles for a week until your next pay check, you’re an Addict!!!
* If you arrive at a sneaker store before the employees of said sneaker store and then get mad when they won’t let you in right away because they have to set up, you’re an addict.
* If your making a list, and checking it twice, gonna find out which sneakers are wack and which are nice, Your not only an addict, you may possibly be qualified to work in the mall next Christmas.
* If you can make a adult size castle out of your sneaker boxes, you’re an addict
* If you accidentally bought the same pair sneakers twice, you’re an addict
* If you purposely bought the same pair of sneakers twice, you’re an addict
* If you rank your sneakers in order of importance, you’re an addict
* If you ever gave away a pair of brand new sneakers because you got tired of them even before u ever wore them, you're an addict
* If you ever had to call your Asian friend to translate the currency on an overseas website that you were ordering sneakers from because they aren’t made in the U.S., you’re an addict.
* If you ever rummage through your sneaker collection and stumble upon a pair of sneakers and repeat the phrase, “Oh there you are. I was looking for you for a minute”, you’re an addict.
* If you live in a 2 bedroom apartment were 1 bedroom is yours and the other is your sneakers you’re an addict.
* If you read sneaker magazines and have frequent flier miles on sneaker blogs, you’re an addict.
* If the guys in the sneaker stores know who you are and greet you when you walk in like Norm from Cheers, you’re an addict.
* If you know the Name’s of your sneakers and release dates better then the sales associates, you’re an addict.

Now that you’re aware of several sneaker addict signs, it should be easier for you to come to grips with what you are. Believe me I remember the first time I broke free from the denial of my addiction. But before you can rid yourself of any issue, you must first be able to recognize what that issue is. To all my sneaker addicts take things slowly, one sneaker at a time.

Give da people what they want......

2009-01-29T09:06:00.000-08:00

Apparently this is the to-go... the special move. So no warming up. Just pull up the curtain. Showtime.

Randomness.....

I missed Pandora. .... It's like we don't speak for awhile, then have make-up sex. Then we decide we were meant for each other. .... She's GOIN IN right now, running tunes I ain't never heard. .... Nothing like the days when your girl feels brand new like the first night you touched each other. ..... I wonder if I could write a book full of Randomness. Would you read it? ..... There is a difference between Living Abundantly and living in abundance. Think about that. .... Ms. Procrastination is so pissed off right now because I've only given her tastes of me but for the most part she's getting the cold shoulder. ..... I told her I was trying to move on. .... Bitch. .... I can't believe I DVR'ed the Real Chance at Love reunion special. ... I feel like I should gouge my eyes out with a broken piece of glass for that. .... But then how am I going to watch Heroes next week?. ..... I actually spent an hour online looking at Harley Davidsons. Sounds like an early mid-life crisis if I've ever heard one. ..... I look up every once in a while and realize that many of the problems that weigh on me aren't specifically my own. But that doesn't mean that I shouldn't mean that just cause a problem isn't assigned to me that I can't solve it. ..... If you can fix something then why stare at it being broken because if you're on the assembly line and one part is broken and the shit hits the fan the feces will inevidently fly in your direction too. .... I'm feelin it. I feel the high that you get from the lie. Feelin it, if you feel it raise your L in the sky. .... Damn sometimes I wish I could be two places at once. But sometimes the second place only looks more enticing because you ain't there. .... It's funny that I keep geting older and somehow I don't feel grown up. What's that about? ..... Why can't I stop playing Brickbreaker? They should have a support group for this. I'm on the train like, "Okay one more game and I'm done. I swear. ..... 17 games later... Okay this is the last one. For real, I swear this time. ..... Life ain't a boomerang. ... The things you do will come back to you. Just not always from the place you sent it to. ... Apparently Dinosaurs makes the best potato salad in life. ... I think Insomnia and I have made friends. He only bothers me sometimes and when he does, I don't give him a hard time. I just like him talk to MJ. She takes care of the rest. .... I don't know what's better gettin laid or getting paid... Thanks Kayne, that was a good one. ..... It doesn't make me mad that I can't go on all the vacations I want to right now. I got a life full of vacations coming. .... Life really ain't that short. Name one thing longer. .... You're entire life you mom took care of you, what kind of person are you if you don't take care of your mother as soon as you're able? .... I want to end this blog with something thought-provoking and profound. But that's all I got so.....

Keep it pimpin Pimpin...

C

I'm here.....

2009-01-21T10:13:00.000-08:00

I'm going right in.....

Randomness......

Usually I'd apologize for talking so long to write but sometimes it just ain't there. ... For some reason whenever I sit down to write ANYTHING lately it simply feels forced. .... In retrospect, I should have been suffocated by issues, stifled by stress. Yet somehow I've remained calm. With a steady hand and an unwavering rhythm in my breath. .... They let people say bitch, ass and nigga on the radio and then when T.I. saying your "piss poor morally" they audio-distort the word "piss." I wish I could piss on the fuckin FCC heads. .... Lately I feel the most alone when I'm with people and when I'm alone I can't get my thoughts to stop crowding me. .... Listening to Tha Carter III. .... I'm just a soul whose intentions are good. Oh no, please don't let be misunderstood. .... People always ask questions they don't really want the answers to. Then if it's not the answer they expect, they either don't want to hear it or don't believe the answer. .... Just keep your mouth shut and believe what you want to believe. ..... I wish I could get paid for writing this. .... Anybody wanna buy an ad? ...... I have more followers than I ever thought I'd have. .... My mother reads this blog too. ... Go back and read some old ones and think about how flagrant that is. ..... Why do grown men have to say "No homo?"...... Listen, I pay bills. I pay taxes. I'm a grown ass man that clearly enjoys in the touch of a female. I'm not prefacing shit I say with "no homo" to qualify what I say next or to assure some next dude that I'm not down for the butt play. ..... Grow up. I say what the fuck I want. If you don't like... Ya Motha. ... We are not the same I am a Martian. .... Welcome to Planet C. ... Beyonce went to work on At Last for the post-inauguration celebration. I bang with that chick. She cried because she genuinely couldn't believe that she had the opportunity to sing for the first African-American president of these United States of America. ... I might actually put my hand over my heart for the national anthem now. .... Nothing worse that someone thinking that are flier than they really are. ... I can't help it. I'll never give affirmation to someone's who's ego is already out of check as it is. Wrap you. .... I haven't slept through the night in three weeks. Does that mean I'm haunted. .... Sleep's overrated. .... I know I need a change in my life. I just don't know what it is. ...... How can you just start walking down a road if you don't even know where it leads? What if you don't even know the name of the street? .... Is that better than just standing in the crosswalk looking side-to-side like an asshole? .... I don't know. .... For some reason I'd rather know where I am even if I don't know where I'm going. ..... That make sense?. ..... Why do I feel like I'm drowning sometimes and there's no water in sight? ...... I can't believe people still aren't up on Mike Phillips. .... It's time for this hair to go. .... Sometimes I wish I could just walk around with a giant middle finger on my shirt so that I wouldn't have to speak. ..... Damn I had cookies AND cookies last night. Sometimes life is grand. .... My job had a reception and pulled the streaming video of the inauguration and projected it on to a big screen so we could all watch it. ..... I have a new respect for my boss. ...... So I think me and Gym broke up but somehow I'm still paying alimony. ..... Me and Ms. Procrastination are practically wifed up and that bitch Sleep decided to leave me. .... My life is in shambles. ..... Even though it all, I still gotta put my Swag on a lease. Shit is getting outta control. ..... Why don't people read more? ..... Why can't I just write a book and live and work on the beach? ..... Why do rappers that are going to jail get countdown reality shows? .... Why does Ray-J have a dating show? .... Oh my God why did I watch Real Chance of Love? .... Clearly it's not the cookies making me loose brain cells.... It's VH1. .... Why do girls from Brazil look like that? .... There was a broad on the Tyra Banks show that eats toilet paper. Half a roll a day. .... I wish I could kick that chick in the face. .... Oh and if I can put a bat to the back of Tyra's head I swear I would. .... She was so much better when she was just in Sports Illustrated. .... I'll still probably watch the show anyway. .... Yes, I'm currently shaking my head at myself. .... I'm afraid to end this blog because then it'll just be me and my Thoughts again. .... Damn... I guess it's time to face fears.

C

There's a stranger in His house

2009-01-13T09:53:00.000-08:00

I went to church on Sunday. Yes, that's news in and of itself. I went because I needed to. Because I needed to find a broom to sweep some of the dust out my closet. Because I needed to go tell God in his own crib that I'm not a heathen.
From the time I walked in, I felt a nervousness. Like, "Sorry God, I know it's been awhile." I kept feeling like when I walked in everyone would turn around and exclaim in unison, "Oh, fancy seeing you here."
I'm accustomed to going to church, listening to a bunch of white people sing in this angelical, holy, holy, holy Lord kind of way while the priest tells us to sit, stand, kneel, stand, sit, read, kneel and stand again. Then an hour later everyone tries to silently slide their jackets on and dip out before they see anyone they know.
But this people were standing for no reason, like they were trying to reach out and touch God. Or hoping that maybe they could grab hold of the words the chorus sang or maybe that maybe the pastor could put salvation in their hands.
I've only seen a chorus like this on television. I've never sat in church and had the preacher screaming at me.
But I needed to go to His house to find the broom. And sweep the dust out my closet. To talk to Him about all the things that I can't bring myself to talk to anyone else about. Before I even sat down the air in there hugged me. And it didn't let go. All the commotion became a silent movie and I looked around like I'd never seen people before. But the truth is, I've never seen people like this before. I listened to the chorus in slow motion and I panned the room. I didn't talk to God at first. I felt ashamed. We've talked lots of times.

But not like this.

So I didn't talk to him at first. I just sat in His house, in His chairs. And I let him watch me. It was my offering. My signal of submission. My act of gratitude. So after 20 minutes, a single tear escaped me. I didn't wipe it off. I owed Him that much. I listened after that. I listened to her explain that He was in me ready to guide me. That He was in everyone. Just read the instruction manual, she said. I could find solace in Him, comfort in Him. And it's not that I didn't know this before. I always thanked Him for whatever He gave me, whatever He offered me. Always thankful.
But I realized I don't ask for His help. The way I never ask for anyone's help. But He knew that my silence was out of humility. I asked for His help this time, His eyes, His guidance. I still have questions. Tons of questions.

But I felt clean when I left. He bathed me.

Thank you. All three of you.

C

Do I really need Randomness after that??

Because I miss it....

2009-01-04T15:17:00.000-08:00

Randomness....

I bet Eric Mangini is giggling his ass off right now. This dude got the blame for the Jets not making the playoffs (although it's definitely partly his fault) while everyone had Chad Pennington fantasies. ... Chad throws a Pick 4 against Baltimore which is exactly the reason New Yorkers are mad at Brett Favre. ... If Mangini ain't laughing I know I am. .... I love Anthony Hamilton but I think his new album is kinda suspect. I'm gonna give it another try. ... There are few things in life funnier than listening to someone go ape shit on the phone with a cell phone company. .... Sprint will give you all your minutes back, two free months and send a girl named Naomi to your house to give you a foot massages. Everyone else will talk to you on the phone for two hours giving you all kinds of explanations that can be summed up in one sentence: Sir, please take a long walk off a short pier. ... Wait... it's about 60 hours since I started this blog. But the Knicks beat Boston and it literally took 48 hours for my erection to fade. Then last night they lost to now 5-34 Oklahoma City and it took the rest of the time for me to get over my blind rage. I'm back now. .... Got out the train yesterday and saw a homeless dude squatting and wiping his ass after her just unleashing a mountain of dung onto a newspaper. ... A girl walked by in disgust and even when she got to the street she was still covering her nose and face. .... I wanted to slap her. Why should she be mad? Dude don't even have a house and she mad that he shitting in the subway station. That makes sense? ..... She should be happy that he was nice enough to do it on a newspaper. He should of lit it on fire, scooped some up with his hand and threw it at her. ... .I would've lost my shit. .... I feel bad that he gotta take a dump in the subway and wipe his ass in front of strangers. That's so much worse that walking by and seeing a homeless guy wiping his ass with the Newsday sports section. .... You could super glue an umbrella to my hand and I promise I'd lose that shit in 45 minutes. .... I really think if I keep holding all this shit in I'm going to literally explode. .... Either that or I'm going to end up like that guy in that movie that pulled a gun on the McDonalds cashier cause his Big Mac didn't look like the one in the picture. ... If I ask for something. Give me what I asked for. ...... Apparently many of the greatest war strategies originated from Mongolian wild wolves. ... Read a book. ...... Damn even the Blog can't always heal me. ..... Sometimes no matter what you do, loss is inevitable. ..... I can't believe I watch kids run in circles for a living. That just makes me laugh. .... Someone unexpected extended themselves to me. So I extended myself to them. It's only right. .... People do so much to make it look like they are less full of shit then they actually are. ... Maybe that includes me. I don't know. .... I hate when people say Society sucks. People suck. Society is made up of people. Get it.... So whenever you say that, instead just say, I suck. Or we suck .... Not me though. I'm pretty cool.

C

Movie Couple...

2009-01-04T11:01:00.001-08:00

A friend of mine always tells me that he has stories that play out in his head. He says that he imagines backgrounds of people on the train, what their home lives are like, who their families here, where they are going and where they are coming from. I think his imagination is better than mine.
But the other day I went to the movies and sat next to this couple. The only thing that caught my attention about them is how utterly impersonal they were toward each other, although they seemingly were together. Anyway, I decided to figure out who they were. So I started writing. Let me know what you think.

Movie Couple....

Her name is Susan. His name is Bill. They sit next to each other in the movie theater and never look at each other. Susan brings a coffee mug, the microwavable kind with sturdy handle, and reads files from work. Bill reads the sports pages. She wears glasses. They bring blankets and show up 30 minutes early.
They laugh at the movie separately. Susan never engages Bill. And Bill looks over periodically only to remember that he didn’t show up alone.
They used to hold hands in the movies. Bill would take Susan to the park for picnics. Susan would start cooking on Saturday night so that Bill would love Sunday dinner. She used to lay on his shoulder at the movies and clench his thighs when the drama built. They used to stay until everyone else left. Bill used to kiss her like no one was looking.
They met in high school. She would have never given him a chance. He was sweet she thought. Just not her type. But he lived two houses down. He’d carry her bookbag home from school. He helped with her Biology homework. She taught him not to be so uncomfortable around girls. He stayed up all night on her bedroom floor listening to her cry the night that Tyler Cunningham told that he just didn’t think it was going to work out. She ditched field hockey team dinner the night Bill’s parent had the big fight and he needed somewhere to run away to. He always chased her and she hid the fact that she enjoyed being chased until that summer when Bill spend two months in Florida with his uncle and came back suddenly came back four inches taller and with muscles. That’s when the roles reversed.
They went to the prom together. Susan followed Bill to college. He did landscaping in the summers. She started tutoring. They were married by the end of junior year. Bill went into construction with his friend Kevin’s dad. Susan became a teacher. They had three kids – two girls and a boy. They lived in a suburb just like the one they grew up in. They never had money problems. But they never lived beyond their means. He drove a pick up. Susan still drives the white caravan they purchased together when Amy, their youngest, was born. Sam played lacrosse. Amy loved ballet and Caitlin wrote poetry.
Bill and Susan would go to the grocery store together. They’d go to the mall. She’d buy his pants. Every Sunday they go over to Kathy and John’s and the men would do men things while they women did women things. They would fight about the kids or about money or about feeling unappreciated. She hated that he never talked about his feelings. Bill hated that Susan always talked about hers.
They are married. They loved each other.
They would get gitty on the days when the kids would all be out the house. They love Saturday afternoons when three kids could stretch freely and find their place in the world while husband and wife could pretend to be 23 years old again and sneaking into a dingy bathroom in a smoky bar and jumping each other like animals. Bill and Susan warned the kids about the day they’d all be gone, when they could be alone finally.
Then Caitlin got married and Sam could a job in Tennessee. And Amy went to study dance at UCLA. And Bill and Susan were alone. Then they woke up at 6:45am each day. Sam would take the shower. Susan made the coffee. She would come into brush her teeth while Bill shaved. Bill would put on his robe and head outside, wipe his face and then stoop down to pick up the Sunday paper. He brought it inside and dropped it on the coffee table. She started breakfast. Only the sound of their footsteps filled the house. After they ate, Susan started the laundry and he swept the front yard. It was his turn to pick today. When he came inside they walked by each other.
“What time?” she asked.
Tonight at 6:40, he said.
They fill the day with chorus and Sunday football on television. They sit at the table in the den. Bill paid the bills and she balanced the checkbook. He started to ask her something. She became alert, mouth open in anticipation until he remembered that he already asked the question. She went back the checkbook. They went on like this, completing daily tasks together and independently without words. She knew what he liked just as he knew what she liked. He went to work and came home, as she did. They went to Kathy and John’s, disappeared with their friends and reappeared when they were both sure it was time to go.
They got to movies 30 minutes early. He would read the sports pages. She would read files from work and bring her coffee mug, the microwavable kind with the sturdy handle. They would laugh separately and never engage each other. They would leave together but Bill would never look back to see if Susan was on his shoulder. She walked at her own pace.
They went to bed at the same time. They knew their routine. They didn’t have to ask about tomorrow. They both wore cotton pajamas. Bill only wore the pants and wore a white T-shirt on top. Susan wore the oversized top and some old sweatpants. They’d both stare at the ceiling. Someone had to break first. They both dreaded it. She holds her breathe. Here it comes.
He starts, “Do you remember that time when Amy was in the yard … “
Yeah, I remember, Susan says.
And remember when Sam ….
Yup.
And then Caitlin.
Sure, it was so funny.

That’s it. Wasn’t so bad tonight, Bill thinks to himself. Susan lets go a slow breath. Glad that’s over. They couldn’t wait for the kids to leave they used to think. Now the only sound in the house is their footsteps.
Alright, Susan says. They both grip a corner of the comforter and turn away.
They both say goodnight.

2008-12-31T07:30:00.000-08:00

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

From the mouthpiece...

2008-12-16T18:29:00.000-08:00

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

Wedding Picture...

2008-12-14T21:06:00.000-08:00

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.

And we're back.....

2008-12-10T07:41:00.000-08:00

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

First time.....

2008-12-01T12:15:00.000-08:00

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?

I'm gonna miss you....

2008-11-23T19:22:00.000-08:00

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

Sigh....

2008-11-19T09:54:00.000-08:00

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:

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!!!!!!!

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!!!!!!

Back like I never left....

2008-11-12T13:42:00.000-08:00

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

Like Sam Cooke said.....

2008-11-05T22:06:00.000-08:00

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....

It Ain't Ova....

2008-10-29T07:27:00.000-07:00

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....

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 4^th 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 4^th and 5^th 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 ”. (Enter Apu voice here)

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?v=zRqcfqiXCX0 ), as well as there are individuals that just don’t know whether to go left or right. So before we go getting ready to do the electric slide at the celebration party, how bout we use some of that energy and do whatever we can to make sure on Nov 4^th we have a real reason to celebrate?

At the end of the day Nov 4^th 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 5^th. 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.

(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

Life....Life is what you make it.....

2008-10-20T17:22:00.000-07:00

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

Trying to form a habit

2008-10-15T12:19:00.000-07:00

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.

Pre Mid-Life Crisis??

2008-10-14T11:03:00.000-07:00

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

Allow myself to introduce......Myself

2008-10-12T12:06:00.000-07:00

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