I think I know what I want to do with my life. I think I know what I want to look like, where I want to be, who I want to be, what I want to be known for, what I'm like. I'm really close to know what all of that is. Close enough to know what color is it. Close enough to smell it, feel it, taste it. It's there. It's close enough to call it Me.
But I'm not there yet.
I have to keep trying, right? I have to keep testing things, pushing buttons, risking failure and misinterpretation and mistakes to get there right? And if this is the case, isn't it worth the risk of being call discontent?
Should I stop trying to get there? Or should just learn to live with where/who I am?
When do I stop trying to get there? Do I get comfortable with the process instead of the destination?
It seems that all I have these days are busy thoughts. I'm not entirely sure of where my thoughts are coming from or where they're going. They're just busy as heck. Buzzing, swarming, flying all around me. They tend to have themes of discontentment, but I'm not even entirely sure if that's what the deal really is. I just generally feel that there is more that I want. I've been comparing my life right now to where it used to be. A few years ago, I was a completely different person. I had less hair, no car, no realistic (read: healthy) romantic options, but a wildly diverse social circle. Cool with the skater punks, ball players, emo kids and worship majors, I had the opportunity to dip into a variety of experiences and perspectives. Not the same story these days...and I miss it...
...yet at the same time, I truly love being alone sometimes. Most of the time, actually. There are times where I prefer it. And I admit, a hefty amount of my desire for solitude comes from a learned behavior to protect myself from the possibility of disappointing those around me. Either way, after looking at my life, I have never not had some kind of influence around me. From my parent's house to now, there has almost always generally been some external factor, playing a part in my day-to-day. And I'm starting to tire. It's truly annoying to want to live life a certain way, when those whom you're sharing a roof with are not on the same page. Dirty dishes and Glade Plug-Ins don't mix. Carpet cleanings and weekly party schedules can't live comfortably. It's time for me to transition so I can hear myself more clearly. Especially for the plans that I have...
Willow Smith is such a little cutie. I actually wanted to hate on that video SO bad. But seriously. And if anyone can't appreciate it, I say to them: grow up a little. Just be a kid for once, dangit. ::whipshairbackandforth::
I would love to be a starving artist...minus the starving part. Seriously, I can truly see myself living an avant-garde type lifestyle. Waking up whenever in the same clothes I wore yesterday, just to create some new daring poem/photo journal/____, smelling like rich cologne and fruit punch. I would live for art and art alone, casting no cares to money or other worldly possession (other than my iPod of course). However...I have bills to pay now. Unless I can run away to another country, change my name, and disregard this life, it's hard to see how I can do it. I would love to do both though. Present pieces in art galleries after my 9 to 5 as a guidance counselor. Visit Paris on the weekend. Photograph and publish my own book...of pictures. Spend an entire summer touring the country with other artsy eccentrics, surviving solely on our earnings from open mics, spoken word slam wins and some random generous strangers.
Speaking of which, I opened a tumblr account called Date of Dunbar. Partly out of boredom, but mostly because I wanted an avenue for exclusive artistic expression. If blogging were coitus, my tumblr would be a quickie.
Seriously. Why are men generally so anxious/apprehensive/cautious/scurred about marriage, compared to most women? I need thought-provoking dialogue on this one.
Whoever is in the mood for a really good scary movie, check out Quarantine. Not much in originality, but I was shook for a good minute. Fo'realz.
Spits swag and sneezes smoove. Seemingly effortless in social interactions. Brings the party with him wherever he goes. A constant rotation of activity and unmentionables in his chambers. Knows what the girls like. Soulja Boy Tell 'Em. Eats without having to work. Works without having to sweat. Sweats without having to stink. He is dominant almost everything but, but is allergic to humble pie. Oozing charisma, with a cheek-to-cheek grin. He is the Roc Boy, the alpha male in the pack, and he only concerns himself with those of the same ilk. But don't get it confused, if the need arises, he shall remind all that he is Sir HNIC. He dwells on the surface level. Secretly tormented by his lifestyle. He has insecurities, but uses them as a quilt to protect him from becoming ever facing The Real. However, there is no room for the The Cool and The Real to coexist in the same arena. The only Real that matters is The Cool's Real.
Cool
Inhales and exhales patience and humility.Struggles constantly to maintain a sense balance. Makes the battle between good and bad seem somewhat honorable. Allows his passions to guide his interactions. Common. Works so he can eat. Sweats so he can work. Sweats without having to stink. Knows his strengths and limitations, and uses both for personal edification. Confident without being cocky. Knows what his woman wants. Dedicated to a belief, a cause, a standard bigger than himself. Concerns himself with the needs of others. But don't get it confused, if the need arises, he will be reminded that he is a Man. He digs deeper past the surface. Is aware of his sins, and constantly works to move past, through, over and past it. He has insecurities, but what Man doesn't? There is one Real, and it isn't his.
I think that it's really easy to get desensitized from a lot of things. Even if I tried to make sense of it, it would still come across rather stifled and confusing. My attempts at putting it into words may fall short...
Some of us truly think that there isn't anything severely wrong with the world that we live in. Outside of our neat little boxes, our thought processes aren't adventurous enough to ask those questions, or take a serious look at some of those things. Either we really don't think its that serious, or we'd rather not immerse ourselves in the just-plain-suckyness of the situation at large.
I am beyond guilty for all of this.
Today, I awoke to the sound of my $250-$300 iPod Touch and my $200 Samsung-Android Powered phone, both the latest in their respective technologies. I rolled out of my plush full sized mattress, past my $600 laptop, with thousands of dollars worth of software, updates, files, photos and music. I shivered, because I was standing directly under the vent, where my air conditioning blew cold air on me. I stumbled into my shower, where I adjusted the water to a comfortable warmth, but not before letting a couple quarts flow freely as I used the bathroom (toilet), flushed, brushed my teeth, then showered, all in a brightly lit bathroom.
In the first thirty minutes of my consciousness today, I've already interacted with hundreds, if not thousands of dollars.
And not five minutes after did I complain to myself about how I need to make more money. Or how I don't have enough money.
I didn't even talk about the two Playstation consoles that I own. Or the games that accompany them. Or my camera. Or the car that I drive. Or the three-bedroom apartment that I live in. Or the HDTV sitting in my living room. Or the hundreds of CD's that I own.
We are surrounded by a wealthy contradiction. And maybe my scope on it is skewed. After all, I am a professional college student; after doing it for going-on 6 years, I'm pretty good at it. However, isn't it strange how much we spend, waste, accumulate, all without giving thought or regard to those who are lesser fortunate/blessed?
I won't even venture outside of U.S. borders with this one. Turn on your television at 3am, and you'll have enough conviction there to almost make you cry. No, I'm going to stay inside of our borders.
We have people in our own backyards (almost literally) struggling. People in our church, our schools, our jobs, our families, struggling. They can't eat. They have to decide on whether they use the last $5 in the pocket to for their gas tank, or eating a meal.
There are hearts aching all around us. Some of us are in our comfort zones, tightly so. We have a symphony of peers and friends around us, willing to listen and lend a helping hand. Others struggle with some real stuff (recognize the euphemism). Depression and suicide. Low self-esteem and serious father/mother/parenting issues. Am I good enough mother? Father? Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Brother? Friend?
Think about it. Go ahead, I'll wait.
Seriously. Before you continue reading, thinking about it.
How can we really think that love exists in sight of all this un/intentional apathy?
Does love exists? With all our gadgets and friend requests and fantasy leagues and new mixtapes and hot celebrity gossip, does that equate love and beauty? Am I heretic for living in it, but hating it?
I strongly believe that there is a beauty that exists in this life, but that doesn't mean that I don't know it's hard to get to.
In 6 days, the end result was that "it is good".
And about 2,000 years ago, it got started, because "it (was) finished".
Billions of people on this earth; why should anyone live it alone? Smiles and laughter and hugs and music and harmony; why should anyone be exempt from this?
What would it take to show that someone cares? What would it take to show that love is real? What would it take to make an impact, leave an impression, touch someone's heart?
More than the mission of various non-profit organizations or charities. Where can this...love come from?
First of all, let me just state that this post was conceived after some...situashuns. The only disclaimer I offer is that I totally understand, respect and revere the unique plight/treasure of womanhood.
But! I've noticed somethings. A woman on her monthly is usually known for a number of unpleasant characteristics. Why? Basically, hormones are going bonkers. Off the charts. Making absolutely no sense to anyone with the opposite chromosome.
The thing is, I've experienced another phenomenon. This phenomenon usually has some of the symptoms of its former. Just as how women go through that time in the month, I've learned that the same irrationality and just-plain-nonsenseness happens to men. Maybe not all men, and not in the same way, but it happens nonetheless. And I speak on this, because I have experienced these symptoms firsthand.
That's right. I'll be the first to admit that I've been going through my own Manstrual Cycle. Once again, not your typical monthly cycle. Patience becomes shorter. Tolerance becomes limited. Prone to odd flashes of sensitivity and simultaneous violence.
In short? An odd, out of control urge for lovin'.
I mean, it seems like it comes out of nowhere, but it hits with a whammy. You hold your girl extra tight, because your bed seems extra cold at night. If you're listening to your iPod and Trey Songz starts whining about familiarity with his neighbors, your imagination takes a field trip. If you're in a relationship, you start glaring at your single roommates as he gets dressed up for what will probably be a fun-filled, free-willed Friday night. If you're not in a relationship, you are glaring at your happily dating roommate (as he cuddles closer to his lady), as your barricade inside of your room, watching another episode of Scrubs.
It'd be one thing if it were a regular hunger for chocolate or buffalo wings or something with an easy, quick, relatively consequence-less fix.
No.
This is lust, an appetite for the woman-kind. Stacey Dash and Scarlett Johansson's altar. The Land of Sweet Mocha Skin and Thick Lips, Inviting Eyes and Generous Waistlines.
And, as a student in the school of purity, this is a heavy battle to fight. It's not the Grand Sin and it won't toss you and your naughty little mind into a sea of fire and anti-aphrodisiacs. But like I said, it is a battle. It's directly connected to a part of us that is biological, but not necessarily logical. As a believer, our sexual purity is one of the many gifts that God has given us. Not the easiest to manage, but incredibly important. Designed with beauty and passion, sex is one of those things that humanity with continue to dance a dance of over- or underrating.
And during the Manstrual Cycle? The urge to throw all that purity mumbo-jumbo out the window in exchange for some good ole fashioned hanky-panky increases tenfold.
Oh, you think you're fine for a few days. A hug here, kiss there. Everything is still under control.
Then all of a sudden, you're fussy and you don't know why.
Yeah. The freaks don't only come out at night. For 5-14 days at a time, living this life in purity becomes even harder.
First off, this feverish hunger isn't your typical. The smallest struggles tend to expand by ridiculous rates.
However, that support system of other individuals in their Manstrual Cycle is VERY important.
Know that distractions do exist.
I'm not going to use this blog as an opportunity to start talking about my sexual health/activities/escapades/adventures. BUT, I will say that in what little I know, something very strange happens to me. I'm already a basketcase for most of the year already.
It is my theory that the Manstrual Cycle is a phenomenon for those of the purity ilk, those men who are trying to keep their hands to themselves (or away from?) and maintain Covenant Eyes. It'd be easy to just go buckwild and not care. The simple solution would be to just "get it out of your system" and sow oats like J. Appleseed did, right? Well, imagine fighting that urge constantly. Imagine a struggle to strive for a deeper definition of intimacy instead of luring her with that failsafe "Meeting In My Bedroom" playlist.
The Manstrual Cycle is something serious. I may not leak bodily fluids or drop eggs and whatnot, but for a certain bit of time a month, my actions may be slightly erratic. I may make lesser sense than usual. But I usually get over it.
But not by myself. I used to think I could. But a community of prayed-up fellows helps. "When two or more are gathered...", right?
A couple push-ups and the Die Hard movies aren't a bad idea either.
Just don't play this song any where near me. Things could get ugly.
If you or any man you know suffer with The Manstrual Cycle, please, find help. There is strength in numbers. Join the resistance.
At least until your wedding night. Then you're on your own. But you're probably looking forward to that.
So, since I'm trying to get back in my groove of writing, I thought I'd take the opportunity and speak out and sound off on something.
A few weeks ago, after returning to VA to continue my pursuit of my Masters in Professional Counseling, me and m'lady's family gathered to eat together at a local buffet spot. General chillness and fatty fat groans were heard and enjoyed all around. As we finished, we stepped outside and chit-chatted a little. We sang some songs, I performed a piece, and then...we started to talk about music.
More specifically, we started to talk about hip-hop. The lightening rod?
Everyone's favorite, Mr. Kanye West.
His single, "Power" had just released an accompanied music video.
After seeing it, I was rather disturbed. And I'm pretty sure that none of the adults there had seen the video. Either way, the parents had an interesting scope on Mr. West. My dad was less than amused about Kanye's antics that had everyone's attention for a while. We spoke for a good bit about what he may have been going through, the direction that his music has been going, from "The College Dropout" to "Graduation" (I'm purposely excluding "808s and Heartbreak" because it doesn't count as a Kanye album to me...imo). I tried to present the perspective of his emotional state after losing his mom, the end of his relationship, etc. We ended speaking more about the need for today's artists to exercise a healthy dose of professional accountability. They may be human, no more privy to the mayhem and emotions of life than you or I, but they are in an amazing place of influence and should hold that responsibility with reverence.
That brings me to the purpose of this post.
I just heard the new song, "Monster".
Has anyone seen Jay-Z's music video for "On To Next One"? If you have, can remember the eerie feeling you felt when you saw all those questionable, random images pop-up? Well, that's kinda how I felt with this song.
(First of all, is this even Kanye's song? In my opinion, once again, Nicki Minaj KILT this song in such a way, I seriously think that this is her song. I mean, seriously. Rick Ross was random, Jay sounded dark and evul as all getout, 'Ye was *meh*, but Nicki? I don't even like her like that.)
I'm all for artistic expression. But some things need to have some for of accountability, some sort of responsibility, some kind of "Hey, maybe this isn't such a great idea. This might do more damage than good."
Seriously. I've heard enough metaphors about being a beast, martian, extra-terrestrial, sick-wit-it, et cetera. But an entire song dedicated to every metaphorical aspect of a monstrosity? How much until it stops being art?
I thought to myself:
What will the music video look like? "Power" was creepy enough.
Music is supposed to uplift isn't it? Even through the muck of the worst of what you may be feeling, shouldn't some part of it encourage, inspire, speak life? Let us not forget the root of the word...
What is Kanye going through? Me and Spoken.Word were talking about Kanye's lyrical content and the changes its gone through. We agreed that it hasn't necessarily grown, just...changed. Like Snoop Dogg's face over the years. (Seriously. How does he look 50 years older in the span of 15 years, but Stacey Dash looks as young as me?)
What in the firey heck is up with Minaj's voice/multiple personality disorder?
The response will probably be something like, "It's just music." Please. Saying it's just music is like saying SARS was/is just a case of the sniffles.
The song is straight up and down creepy.
And I wish that the bars were crap. I wish they were wack, not creative, dry and healthy (you know, opposite of sick?). But they weren't that bad. The production was tight. Roster was tight. And even though Nicki bested everyone else on the track, the lyrics were (questionable, but) dope.
I guess I'm coming from the angle that one weak-willed kid who knows no better. I'm wondering how much work is being done to actually add life and beauty to the airwaves. Songs like this, after they earn acclaim, don't help. There will be rallies about this song (I'm calling it now.) and anti-hip-hop speeches all over. Talks about demonic advocacy and "Satan's Music". It makes me sad to see my music set itself up like this.
What say ye? Is this track just another exhibit in fierce and imaginative lyricism? Or is it something to worry about? Is it both? Neither?
Mentally, emotionally, physically, vocationally, I've gone to quite a few places, reopened some old wounds/doors, created some new ones. If my current emotion in life would sound like anything, it'd be like Eminem's newest album, "Recovery" meets J. Cole's "The Warm-Up". I'm preparing, yet in-transition. Moving up and towards something bigger, better, fuller in my life. From boy to man, student to teacher, black to Trini-American, lover to beloved, all the while, still being me.
The question being, how do I scribe all of this? Do I even want to?
I've had to question that. What's point of me writing? What if I don't get props? If I don't get recognition? If I never sell another copy of my book? What if no one likes what I have to write/say?
God gave ME this gift. While there are many other people who can write the way, and have chiseled out a comfortable niche that allows them to be complete, I have the same. Be it a notepad, a blog site or a status on Facebook, for some reason, My God saw fit to give me zen with the pen, a gift of gab grown up.
In this constant dichotomy of me, I'm learning that there needs to be a balance. And I know I'm not the only one. I also know that even to those closest to me still have a ways to go before truly learning anything about me. I'm writing for them, THEM, and Them.
I believe that someone can learn from my words, my experiences, my diction, my scattered logic and immature sense of humor. I feel that I can use the lemons and oranges and cherries from my life to brew a tropical punch for someone else, to modify a popular say-so.
WIth that being said...let the shenanigans continue!
So, me and Little Brother have a relatively new relationship. I wish I knew about them when they first came out. Unfortunately, those days, I was more into Will Smith and N'Sync (DJM...)
But, since I first got on the LB train, I've been riding and enjoying the trip. Little Brother has come to represent what is right in Hip-Hop these days. In the days of "All The Way Turnt Up", LB shines bright like a prism. It seems, however, that this is the last stop. Time for me to gather my travel pillow and continue exploring. LeftBack is Little Brother's last album, and as bittersweet as that is, I'm going to try and conduct my first album review.
(I won't say how I managed to be able to listen to this. All I'll say is...times is hard.)
1. Curtain Call - The first released single for this album, I hopped on it with the quickness. For me, this song defines bittersweet. 'Te and Pooh both briefly summarize their LB journey on a track produced by Khrysis. 'Te spits with his signature 'real talk', while I thought that Pooh was in rare form. He usually gets overshadowed by Phonte's lyrical prowess, but I think Pooh really cleared his throat on this jam. Definitely a fave.
2. Table for Two - A relationship song, I personally enjoyed Yahzarah's hook. Jozeemo's verse was a nice surprise, kinda like the non-trap star's Jeezy. This song was the album's "Baby-I-don't-wanna-fight-no-mo'" jam. Not that bad - I'd like to see a video for this one. The concept should be BET/MTV friendly enough to be fleshed out. As usual, 'Te's sense of humor comes through for realz. "Ya'll take a check?"
3. Tigallo for Dolo - I'm totally feeling the bass on this one. I wanna ride around town with the windows down, etc. Incredibly honest, Phonte comes through by himself, sounding off on a couple of issues. And when I say honest, I mean, that I have rarely heard emcees render themselves so bare with such artistic self-disclosure. This isn't a confessional, just a real individual, spitting real talk. Nuff said.
4. Revenge - Honestly speaking, with a title like Revenge, I was expecting either 'Te to completely spaz out on this. Pooh did pretty good, but *Kayneshrug*. Maybe this beat should've been given to Meth and Red or someone with that gritty feel. It's not a bad song...but I was expecting more. The set-up was there...Ah! This song feels like it should've been on a mixtape. The two featured verses? Not really necessary for this album.
5. So Cold - HOJ-mate Chaundon comes through for a visit on this track, and I actually like his flow. He's rocked with LB before, so he's no stranger. The beat had me feeling real chill-like, which isn't a bad thing. This'll sound bad, but...I liked Chaundon's verse the most. "Bring it to ya chest/Now you all Lil' Weezy..."
6. Second Chances - Off the first beat, I liked this song. When Bilal started singing...my expectations changed. Not really for the worst. Another relationship song, I don't totally dislike it...I just really wish Bilal wasn't on it. D-Brock saved it, in my opinion.
7. Go Off Go On - Pooh goes in! OMG, I feel so happy to hear this man do WORK, compared to other, more recent LB songs. Phonte, meanwhile, seems to be coasting. He didn't do bad, but I've heard him dish considerable heat on other joints. This is, however, another one of those songs that seems to have been more suited for a mixtape than an album release.
8. What We Are - Ooh. This is the "side-jawn" track. Pooh really comes through on this track. Like...I imagine it to be that moment when your son comes home with an A+...you knew he could do it! The only awkwardness is that I can't 100% relate to it...but I feel it, all the same.
9. After the Party (rmx) - I personally am not a fan of folk re-releasing songs from previous albums on completely new albums. I figure, if you're dropping a whole new album, why not complete it with some brand new jams? I heart this song from GetBack...and I'm feeling the new production. But the original will always be the original...try listening to Akon's Wanna Be Starting Something. No go.
10. Two Step Blues (rmx) - See Above.
11. Get Enough Pt. 2 - It was this song that made me realize that the Little Brother of yore was gone. Farewell to "The Listening", because this sound was vastly different. In any event, hearing Khrysis on the mic was an interesting listen. That's about all I can say about this one.
12. Before the Night is Over - A smooth joint, I'm really feeling this one. Probably one of the few that make sense to be on this album. This actually feels like it belongs. The sound is more Foreign Exchange than Little Brother...
13. 24 - The beat KNOCKS...this dude Torae does work. As does 'Te. As does Pooh. A thorough track, this one is a keeper.
14. Star - The Haymaker, this track wasn't even supposed to see the light of day. So I'm not going to talk about it. I won't even supply a link. I will say that this is the last time that 9th Wonder was with Pooh and Phontigga...maybe forever.
All in all...LB fans will bump it, regardless if it sucked or not. Fortunately, it doesn't suck. But...I found myself hoping for a "The Black Album"-esque bow out. Some songs didn't seem to fit at all...it ended up feeling like a collection of unreleased tracks and Saturday night freestyles. I was hoping and wishing for something like another "The Minstrel Show". The thing is...this is not it, and they are not the old Little Brother we first heard. Phonte is working with The Foreign Exchange and more endeavors of grown folk music; Pooh is working his solo dolo muscle. As far as this album...I would get it, simply because...this is it.
Standout Tracks:
Curtain Call
Tigallo for Dolo
Go Off Go On
24
Star
The thing with Ms. Minaj is, I strongly believe she’s crazy. Yeah, she’s got a bad body. And she’s got bars for days. (I’ve actually had many conversations with some friends, talking about how Nikki is accomplishing what Lil’ Kim may/should have been trying to accomplish. Facial antics included.) That being said, there are some beautiful, amazing, women out there…and some of them have a number of personalities that pop up that the weirdest times. One minute, they have you walking around saying “My Chick Bad”, and the next, “My Chick Outta Her Freakin’ Mind”. This woman doesn’t even have to be at the extreme of being diagnosed with clinical schizophrenia. It generally has to do with an utter lack of consistency. She likes you and lavishes you with attention, then she doesn’t. She’s dainty and sensitive; all of a sudden, she’s more like UFC fighter than model, and not in a good way. Most women are generally baffling to men; this woman is certifiably confusing to others (and herself). Stay clear, because chances are you’ll end up with more than a headache.
- Snookie
This kind of woman has a dangerous tendency to be over-obsessed with her looks. Now, a little make-up isn’t a bad thing, especially when it compliments her natural beauty. To some women, it is an outlet of creativity and individuality. But…there are those women who spend WAY too much time focusing on the right skinny jeans and the most fly hairstyle instead of their job/classes/responsibilities. When you encounter a woman who is way too concerned with the external and regards the internal with a question mark, this should be cause for concern. This is more than being confident; she should be able to do something with all that confidence. Hear me; I am a full-on advocate of some blush and lip gloss…but she doesn’t even know what she wants out of life and starts a chant of “help me, save me”, you should probably head for the door.
- Lil’ Mama
I shouldn’t even call her a woman, because at times, she would resemble more of a lil’ – I mean, little girl. We all saw what Lil’ Mama did at the VMAs. Everyone was chilling, enjoying what is sure to be NYC’s new anthem. Jay and Alicia Keys were wrapping it up, throwing it down in a real way. The vibe was right, everyone was in a great mood…then here comes Lil’ Mama. Not Nas. Not the Mayor of New York City. Not the entire Yankees roster. Not anyone who would make sense. Lil’-freakin’-Mama. This woman? It’ll almost seem like she’s intentionally trying to bum rush her way into a chill scene, just to start some mess. The focus has to be on her, or else she’ll start feeling insecure and all that mess. Know that everyone has their set of baggage. But when that baggage starts frequently cramping everyone else's style, it’s a problem. No one likes a blatant attention seeker. Especially if she can’t be classy with it.
- Oprah
We are in a new era of Man-Woman relations. We’ve come a long way from not even allowing women to vote, or work in certain positions. The thing is, and as a Christian, this is my own personal conviction, men have a certain standard of respect and self-respect that cannot be broken or challenged, something that inherently felt. I’ve heard more than one man say in more than a few ways that he could deal with quite a few things, but once disrespected, something unspoken is shattered, almost irreparable. It has been psychologically assessed that just as women have the need to feel treasured and loved, men need to be respected. With that said, she could be bringing home the bacon and the steak, with enough left over for some chicken. However, if the man is not recognized as the leader of the relationship/family, something is severely wrong. She is not better than him, he is not better than her; they need each other to make it work – but if she doesn’t respect him, he’ll struggle to show love (and thus the cycle begins…). And if that’s the case, how can they truly interact with each other as adults?
- Lauryn Hill (Post-Miseducation)
I personally feel that this is the most dangerous woman to get seriously involved with, moreso because if she is beautiful, it can distract us men from what is truly important. Once again, as a Christian, this is of the utmost importance to me. If a woman cannot connect with, or speak to you eye to eye on a deeper, meatier level, she is quite frankly not worth the time. I’m not even talking about the capacity to speak with intelligence. Mental depth should be a given when speaking about a Woman. I’m talking about a woman who cannot talk with spiritual clarity, a woman who does not have a direct, intimate relationship with her God. I’ve heard it said before that a woman’s heart must be hidden in God in order for a man to find her. I echo that sentiment. I would feel such conviction if I didn’t mention this, because without this foundation, I feel that everything is relatively shallow. Because of God’s relationship with His Bride/The Church, I believe that it is the blueprint for Man/Woman/Wife relationships. If, at the end of the day, no matter how many arguments or disagreements or slip-ups, if you both cannot arrive at the cross on bended knee, leave her. She is not worth compromising your relationship with Your Father.
- (Fake) Mother Teresa
As a part two, this particular woman causes me a whole lotta heartache. First, let me state that we are all fallen creatures. Busted and falling short each day, we are constant works in progress. However, this is not a pass. If we are saved, we are to constantly strive to daily redemption. With that out of the way, this woman is a charlatan. It’s one thing to struggle. It’s another to front as if you’ve got everything on lock. The whole double-life notion should scare you, because it is typically a sign of a lack of trust, or some deeper issue. Much like The Nikki Minaj, she switches up like Lynchburg weather. If she’s not the same woman on Tuesday as she is on Sunday, it’s time to start asking some questions. It’s also another problem if she has no humility about herself. Conviction is a sign of the struggle we have with sin; once that is gone, we start cooling off, becoming that dreaded lukewarm believer.
- Khia
Almost winning the title of the Most Annoying Woman, this woman is quite the thorn in many a side. She LOVES flapping her gums. She lives for gossip and other people’s business. I would compare her to The Snookie, but that may be giving her too much aesthetic credit, as The Snookie at least takes pride in her appearance. Recklessly popping off at the side of her neck, this woman has zero class. A t-shirt and sweatpants may be real cute in college, or if you’re just lounging on a Saturday. But if your boys are at the crib, and she strolls by in a (not cute) too-small tee and she hasn’t brushed her teeth yet, time to regulate. She might disguise it as “keeping it real” or being your “down chick”, but if she’s going to call herself a woman, there should be a standard of class. Think about it. How much of a fan of pointless gossip and foolish babble are you? How much silly chatter can you tolerate? Do you have a high capacity for ignorance? If you look up one day and realize that you don’t want this woman to meet your mother/family/friends for fear that she may embarrass the mess of you, then it may be time to sit her down and have that good ole chat with her.
I honestly don't know why I don't do this more. Almost every blog that I've visited since I've start blogging has at least one post completely dedicated to disorganization and randomoscity. I'm a little embarrassed that I haven't done it before. At least not like this. I have no idea what's going to come out. I expect some disclosure. So if I end up going off on a tangent about Reese's and Little Brother's Final Album, don't judge me.
For the past few weeks, I've been in a really weird place, on quite a few fronts. I work for my campus' multicultural office (Center for Multicultural Enrichment), and I was recently given a hefty bit of responsibility, more than I had been used to. I've only been working there since October, so I figured that I needed more stripes before heading off an event that I basically fathered. The general consensus is that it was a great success, but man.oh.man. It was stress galore.
Tiffany Y (who performed "At Last" by Etta James)
Me (I hosted the event, tryna get fresh)
My sister, who helped me handle some technicalities and such...
Me, getting my tie straightened by m'lady - she also performed at night, reading an excerpt from Zora Neale Hurston's "Their Eyes Were Watching God".
My main man, Chris B. who came down for the weekend from NJ. Dude's been my friend since kneehighs...check him over at ArtStar.
Us, once again. Lookin' fly, like Jedi do.
Center for Multicultural Enrichment Staff, Spring 2010 - Not everyone could make it, and they were mad that they weren't in this pic. Sorry kids.
All photos were taken by my man, Reggie L., the smoove cat in the middle with the suspenders. Check more of his stuff at his Flickr page.
The Book of Love has opened up yet another chapter for me, once again challenging everything I thought I knew or understood. A part of me doesn't even want to talk about it, because I know that something will come up to prove me wrong (or right, in the case of pessimism). Another part of me loves it, revels in it, and desires to dwell it. For example:
How can a man speak with love, yet act without it?
Is love simply romantic sacrifice?
Is love worth any and every kind of sacrifice?
I am learning more and more how much of a complex creature I am. I boast simplicity and desires for such, but my efforts for these desires end up being so much more convoluted and complicated. When if comes to love, I realize that I know so little...and that lack of knowledge often makes me uncomfortable and react out of said discomfort.
Amid my efforts, I am truly turning into my dad, in more ways than one. I may not be as stocky as him, or as resourceful, but there are definitely some signs that are popping up.
I've started say things that only he says. Stuff like, "Let me tell you something...", followed by some really insightful perspective.
I'm starting to get comfortable in my thinking that everything takes place AFTER family. Emotion enough to wage war.
I know what I'M doing. If you don't get it, get with it. (This is of particular distress, because my personally will typically bend over backwards to change my plan and level of comfort for you.)
Practical jokes are specifically in my dialect. If you don't like to laugh as foolishness, get from 'round me.
I will own up to any wrong I've done. I've done my share of stupid stuff, but I've grown to adhere to this statement: "You make your bed, you sleep in it."
A little over a year ago, I heard of a group called Little Brother. Since I heard them, I've dutifully went and bought/downloaded everything they had to offer, from their debut "The Listening" to their "...and Justus for All" mixtape. However, the end is nigh. Their final album, entitled "LeftBack" is dropping on April 20th, and it is truly a bittersweet affair. Their single, "Curtain Call" has dropped and to hear 'Tay and Pooh spit about wrapping it up and really sad. I've never anticipated an album's release like this before. Especially a hip-hop album. Consider it copped.(Link to Listen/Download)
I must be getting old. Because I really want to sleep right now. My more base human instincts (anger, joy, lust, etc.) seem to be peaking, because while sleep is at the tippy, I find myself wanting to cover all of them. At the same time.
I'm not here to judge, by no means at all. I don't know your personal struggles, your history, nor the weight you take each day. I believe that while we may have different definitions of hurt, pain is pain, whether a pin prick or a stab wound. And while I may not know all of you personally, I write this with a heavy heart:
Be men to your women.
And off the top, I know at least 5 dudes that would respond and say something like, "I don't know whatchu talkin' 'bout, I'mma man wit' mines, bruh."
All the same. Be men to your women.
Whatever the process may be, however hard it may seem, I strongly urge you to please. Be men to your women.
Because they need us. We exist in a world where women are rising to the occasion, a struggle that has been being fought for decades, almost centuries. There is still heavy, but silent debate on exactly what a woman can or can't do. But all the same, (it is my firm belief) that God has placed a responsibility on us males to handle more than "bringing home the bacon". Instead, we must first make sure our home is in order.
I'm not going to propose a ten-step program on "How to Be a Better Man in 2010". But we know what the deal is. We can laugh with our boys, we can bump dozens of hip-hop songs about "getting mine" and "everyday I'm hustlin'", but the era of single/teenage mothers and rising abortion rates, it past due time to be men to our women.
Love them. Honor them. Respect them. Because at this rate, we truly don't deserve them.
Disclaimer: (Let me first state that I am speaking to the majority. I know many fellas who are the exception, rather than the rule. Life tosses many variables, so to assume that 100% of the men of planet Earth fall into this category would be foolhardy. To you brothers, kudos, and keep on keeping on.)
To the ladies,
I don't know anything about being a woman. I would often joke about how I don't want to know anything about being a women, but I readily admit that it was spoken in pure ignorance. Just being stupid. All the same, I feel the urge to reach out to you. Call it young, call it dumb, call it softer than Charmin's, my heart aches at the things I've been witness to.
This is a freewrite, so I haven't even thought this part out. I think I just want to commend all the single mothers, teenage mothers out there. On the behalf of all the willing men, I am sorry for our failures and misfortunes as men. We have done wrong, and gotten beyond distracted. We have fallen in lust with so much more than that which deserves our attention. From Kardashian to quesos, we allow ourselves to take the easy way out instead of the honorable thing of treating you like the gifts you are.
I'm not an anti-male, feminist or anything.
But I do know wrong when I see it. And we have been wrong to you.
Disclaimer: (Once again, this is written to the majority. I know that just like the fellas, there are a number of ladies who aren't on their "act right". While I may not know all the circumstances involved in that, I will say that I urge you - just as strongly as the fellas - to realize how important a community is and why we really need to do what is necessary to pull it together. Just like there are some beautiful females, there are some outstanding men. Be willing. Be patient.)
I remember that I used to think that no one loved me.
At that point in my life, however, my definition of love was somewhat skewered. I had a weird "Disney-fied" view on love and its associates. The streetrat will always woo the heart of the princess, all the dalmatians will find their way home, and the beauty will always see the golden heart of the beast. And all of these things were hopes and dreams; I wouldn't say that I saw anything that aggressively encouraged these thoughts. I just think that I was what they call a hopeless romantic. Always waiting for that mystical ending. Or beginning.
There were a number of girls that I was interested in. And there were always some circumstances that prevented me from really being able to love someone, always something that I didn't have. A few times, I was told that I was "too good" for their graces. (I still have no idea what that crap means.) While I've grown past those days, I feel that those experiences still haunt me in various ways in my current life.
So, once again, at that stage, with constant rejection, I was more or less left to ponder on things in my own head. I looked around and tried to assess why no one seemed to like me, or why I wasn't an option for these girls. I began to draw comparisons.
Me
Shorter than your average
Visually impaired
No apparent physical ability
A strange interest in comics and action figures (not dolls)
Invariably reading books or writing random nothings or doodling
Them
Tall as, or taller than your average
20/20 vision
Physical dominance in every facet that mattered
Able to recall each player in the Chicago Bulls' 1996-97 roster
Somehow able to pass classes without once cracking a textbook
With that evidence and the lowered self-esteem that usually comes with grade/high school bullying, I had accepted the fact that I would never really be loved as long as these prepubescent deities roamed the playground.
Until I met Ibn. I don't know what an "Ibn" is, but this lil' boy owned his name like a crown. He had captured the wily little heart of one of my many objects of affection, whom we shall call Dee. She was one of the main people who didn't take my affection towards her seriously. I'm assuming that Ibn was more of her type. He was the Alpha Male wherever he was from, and he looked to stake his claim in my world as well.
And it bewildered me that any one would want to stay by his side for any other reason than to beat some sense into him. This kid reminded me of Tupac's character in Juice, hellbent on aggression and dominance. I assume that Dee's 13 year-old loins were tempted by his 'hood demeanor, but the boy could barely form a sentence without some expletives thrown in for good measure. You know, to get his point across, 'knamean?
One event sticks out in my mind. It was at a social gathering of sorts, a few folks from the church got together to celebrate something and everyone brought their kids along. Somehow Ibn ended up in attendance. The grown folks all grouped together while the kids ran around outside, riding on bikes and playing at the nearby park. Dee and Ibn were officially, but unofficially "going with" each other. I, the eternal social nomad, was still the distant friend. Far enough to deny association, but close enough if you needed to borrow a quarter.
I began to notice something in Ibn's behavior, something that seemed to be a continuing trend that only intensified the older I got. Ibn, while young and still very dumb was for all intents and purpose was a verifiable jerk.
He seemed to care nothing for Dee. The main emotion there was a lack of emotion. The way they interacted was more like Ike and Tina. She was scared of him. And I know they were young, with no good sense in their nappy little heads. But I've seen the same sentiment as I've gotten older. Men who, while attached to their women, showed them no respect. They belittled them, disrespected them, displayed utter disregard to their feelings or their womanhood. I've seen men drain the life force from the women they've been blessed to spend time with. Push them to make decisions that only harm them. Encourage them in directions that help no one but themselves. There's no warmth there. There's no care there. There's no love there.
And I've seen women run to them, with arms and hearts wide open. Willing to give just a little bit more of their being. Compromise just a little bit more of their souls. Denying their God-given instinct and trusting a fallen, broken man. Women are incredibly strong creatures, but much of strength, I feel, has been borne from a sense of battle-weariness.
And I've said to myself, what can I do? This is more targeted to the women with whom I have no connection with. These women, I do not know, and they do not know me. That being said, my efforts are more likely to be met with skepticism and caution.
But to the women I do know, and have known? I've had one constant question on my mind. This question initially points at me, but at this current point in my life, I've come to understand what the True Answer is.
This is where I'm from. I honestly know nothing else, and I am growing to see that I don't want to be any other way. This is where the man I will be started his journey. This is where I got all those butt-whoopings. This is where I learned to play the keyboard. These people have taught me so much about my faith and myself. I can't imagine being any different. I remember the amount of things that we have been through, individually and collectively, and it drives me to do what I can to bring us closer together, because this is no ordinary love. We need each other in ways that we're almost resistant to, but...it's all love.
To my first real love...
All that I know, all that I feel about love started with you. From the first moment you walked into church all those years ago, my heart almost literally bled for you. I've woken up from a summernight's sleep with your name on my lips, and I mean that in the most literal way possible. And yet...while it went nowhere, and while you could never understand in a thousand lifetimes how much I loved you, and while we are at two different places in our lives, and while I've finally moved on to greener pastures, I thank you. You've encouraged me. You've taught me. You've challenged me. What's funny is, you don't even know it. But I thank you. All in the name of love.
To "Destiny"...
My senior year in high school would not have been the same without you. Another lesson in love could not have been had without you. The purpose of friendship was made real with you, because at a point in my life where I needed affirmation, you proved to be elemental. At your own admission, there was a facade, and scars were formed, figuratively and literally. You left me. You went somewhere, and yet...I thank you. Of course, I went through a period of hating the oxygen that allowed you to breathe. But...I thank you. Fortunately, we were able to meet resolution, but I wouldn't have known how to rationalize my emotions without you. I remember all of it, all of us, all of you.
To my missed love...
While I wish that we had our own niche in time to exist independently, you are beyond important. Simply stating that you are a great friend is an understatement, because of where our relationship is. I've done things and made decisions that could have dissolved our friendship, compromised it and turned it into mere repeat of failed relationships of our pasts. But you decided to stay with me and be just that...my friend. What's funny is that prior to our meeting, I had given up hope on love, but you gave me something. You allowed me an arena to be, simply. Maybe God has something different in the cards for you and I, but I am glad that we are where we are.
To my current love...
Never have I known a love so intense, so complex. And we may have identical interests and passions, but one cannot deny God's penmanship throughout our relationship. I mean it when I say that I can't imagine not having you in my life; 'tis a blessing that we are this close. Once again, me and my foolish tendencies have threatened our relationship, pushing it to unnecessary limits...but here we are. And I meant what I said that one decisive night, oh so long ago: I love you, because outside of myself, beyond myself, I want nothing but your happiness and success - even to the point for you to save yourself from me if you had to. You have taught me how love is to be applicable and intentional, if it is to grow. And I want to continue to grow with you.
To my friends...
I don't need to go back in time and bring up stories of how I was the outcast growing up. I don't need to paint more pictures of woes and complaints about a part of my life that is no longer here. But I will take this chance to re-iterate, or even state for the first time for some of you who may not know - I've come from a very dark place. Yet you all call yourselves my friends. Not the "Chandler-and-Monica" friends, but friends to call me out on my stupidity...with love. Friends who reciprocate the warmth that I try to show to them. Homies, roll dawgs, potnas, peeps, ya'll provide me with a community that makes me feel safe.You challenge my faith and my walk with Christ. You allow me to make mistakes and learn from them. You allow me to stick my foot in my mouth, and then help me to take it out. Simply put, you show me a very basic, but often overlooked form of love. This is the kind of love that I think God meant when he spoke of fellowship, because I am learning that this life was not meant to be lived alone.
"...At least I can say that I have experienced love..."
So, I found myself listening to Raheem DeVaughn's debut album, "The Love Experience". In listening to the first song, I realized somethings that I wanted to take advantage of.
My "Love Experiences", according to The Love Experience.
First off, I understand that Love, will never have one sole definition. From Agape to Parental to Unrequited, love is the eternal Bermuda Triangle, an ever-existent Pandora's Box. Common understanding ceases to exist, and everything is made clear.
Looking back, I've learned how much of a part that this love (that no one can explain) has really made me who I am, and who I plan on being. Not to make it sound like the next "Antwone Fisher", but regarding issues of the heart, let me be the first blog you read today to point that I've been through some things with love. Call it a pinprick or gaping war wound, hurt is hurt.
But I feel that these experiences have something to offer you, as well as me.
