1.23.2009

A Conversation I Had With Myself (On Inauguration Day)

There are three modes that Freud detailed as being a part of our psyche, the Id, Ego and SuperEgo.

The Id speaks on the behalf of the pleasure principle, doing what feels right and answering its biological desire. The Ego stands as the police force, in a way. The SuperEgo is the judicial system of the psyche, standing as the judge, declaring things right or wrong. The SuperEgo can also be understood as a balance between the Id’s irrational pursuits and the Ego’s legalistic tendencies. My Id’s name is Javier. My Ego’s name is Obby. My SuperEgo’s name is Biggs.

From time to time, they sit at a round table and converse with each other. The following is a transcript from such an event.

Biggs: So…ya’ll know that we officially have a Black President, right?

Javier: Whatever. That n*gga ain’t even really all Black. He’s part-brotha. Half-time.

Obby: Javier, you know you ain’t right. And, remember back in the day? Even an ounce a dark in yo’ meat, and you were considered totally Black.

Javier: Oh well. I know he better open up Rikers. My cousin’s been in there since ’96, and he didn’t even do nothin’.

Biggs: Are you serious? He held up a liquor store with a toothbrush and a bar of Ivory soap. Still, no one is completely sure how he killed the cashier.

Javier: He didn’t do it! I was with him, spankin’ that behind on Mortal Kombat with Sub-Zero! At my house, in Phoenix!

Obby: But his fingerprints were all over the place…

Javier: It wasn’t him.

Obby: …and around the cashier’s throat…

Javier: It wasn’t him.

Obby: …and there was a report of him buying several rounds of shotgun rounds earlier that day.

Javier: It wasn’t him.

Biggs: Are you just trying to be ignorant and callous?

Javier: It wasn’t him.

Obby: (Sigh) In any event, I know that this is supposed to be a really huge day for America, especially for African-Americans, all across the country. I mean, we just swore in the country’s first non-white president. But I’m still kinda…reserved about him. I just…don’t agree with all of his policies.

Javier: And? Man, eff any that got a problem with my Black President! We fidna paint that motha BLACK! Cookouts and Block Parties all over DC!

Biggs: Didn’t you just dismiss him as only half-black?

Javier: BLACK PRIDE!

Biggs: What is wrong with you? Do you even have a stance?

Javier: Look, this country ain’t done nothing for me, but raise my taxes and called me a n*gg*r. I got the right to have some kind of pride about this whole thing. (Starts singing “Oh Happy Day” from Sister Act 2)

Obby: I understand that. But you shouldn’t really act out. You might offend someone.

Javier: Hey, who has two thumbs and doesn’t give a crap? Javier Id, at your service.

Obby: But what about abortion? What about the economy? Seems kinda sketchy to me.

Javier: Look, things are fidna change. Baseball is no longer a national past time. Sales for ribs are about to go through the roof! It’s a celebration, snitches!

Biggs: You do know that nothing’s going to really change immediately, right?

Javier: Like what?

Obby: He has a point. Being a president doesn’t mean you just do what you want with the country.

Biggs: Not just that. Wheels are going to start turning, yes, but there’s more that has to be done. Especially on our part.

Javier: Whatever, n*gga.

Obby: This is true. The waves of his election and presidency will effect more than current issues. For example, his family has quickly become the new model for fatherhood, being supportive wives and husbands…

Javier: Oh, you talkin’ about Michelle? With her fine behind…

Obby: Javier! That’s the First Lady you’re talking about like that!

Javier: Shoot, I’d vote for her any day…she could be MY First Lady…

Biggs: That’s disrespectful. It’s a good thing you’re not anywhere near the White House.

Javier: …all of that brown goodness…

Obby: At the end of the day, right is right. There’s nothing we can really do about it. Pride aside, I just can’t agree with his stance on abortion. I’m sure he’s a great guy, but I really hope he handles this presidency properly.

Biggs: Exactly. We need to pray for him and how he handles this country for the next four years. We need to pray for his daughters and his wife…

Javier: …bootybuttcheeks!

Biggs: …and we should also keep in mind that we are Americans together. We may not like him, his policies or anything else, but just as how we had to respect our last President…

Javier: Eff Bush.

Biggs: …we should show him his due respect. And look forward to the future with eyes of optimism.

Javier: BLACK PRIDE!

1.16.2009

Show-Off

One of the cockiest phrases ever is:

"When God made me, he was showing off."

It's always someone lookin' crazy fly. You wouldn't see a bum saying that, would you? You can't readily associate God with the stench of whiskey and throw-up.

Naturally, we can assume that whoever is saying this is some type of good-looking. And even if someone is saying that about someone else, I don't think they would choose anything less than pleasant to describe.

Maybe it's a part of our nature as man, or maybe we've been taught to understand God as utter perfection. As a matter of fact, I have a few people/things of my own whom I would instinctively think perfectly captured God's knack for making all things good and whatnot:




All pictures of beauty. All created by God, right?

So, what about this?


I consider myself to be an average looking person. Not too bad, nothing to scream about. Simply put...normal.

Upon thinking about it, what does that mean? Can I say that God was showing off when he made me?

I'm not Will Smith. I'm not Idris Elba or any other bronze skinned Adonis. I don't have chiseled abs or amazing pecs. I don't even think I'm insanely talented. I write poetry, short stories and the like. I try to put everything I have into every single thing I write, but that doesn't place me at the upper echelon of existence. There are tons of better writers out there than I. There are better singers, better dancers, better looking people.

I am not perfect by any means. So...does this mean that I am not allowed to say that God was showing off when he made me?

I think there remains something to be said about God and his design.

We know that He is the epitome of perfection. He is perfection. He is the trifecta of omni: omni-present, omni-potent, omni-scient. All places, all powerful, all knowing. So, just from that deduction, creating supermodels and natural treasures should be a cakewalk for him. He can create a sexy army of Jill Scotts and Kerry Washingtons by sneezing. He can paint immaculate canvasses with less than the least bit of effort. It's nothing for Him.

But to create something so incredibly unique? There are unique stars, unique planets, unique snowflakes, but unique me? There is only one.

There is only one.

And I know that there are billions of snowflakes that fall every winter, but the design is rather simple when compared to each and every one of us.

We are beautifully and wonderfully and uniquely and amazingly and divinely made.

Who out there can dance like me? Sing like me? Think like me? Write like me? Cry like me? Fart like me? Burp like me? Shout like me? Step like me? Move like me? Speak like me? I'm like a gumbo of awesomeness.

So...
God was showing off when he made me.