The Man-strual Cycle

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.

1. First off, this feverish hunger isn't your typical. The smallest struggles tend to expand by ridiculous rates.
2. However, that support system of other individuals in their Manstrual Cycle is VERY important.
3. 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.

Monster?...

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:

1. What will the music video look like? "Power" was creepy enough.
2. 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...
3. 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?)
4. 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?

Posts For You, Truths For Me

I haven't written in a long time.

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!